


Too Far Gone

by TheModernChromatic (orphan_account)



Series: Blame [1]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: 1930s, Alternate Universe - 1930s, Dancing, Fluff, Gangsters, M/M, Police, Romance, Smut, Swing Dancing, Tragic Romance, ereri, riren - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-16
Updated: 2013-11-30
Packaged: 2017-12-26 18:06:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 16
Words: 31,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/968689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/TheModernChromatic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prohibition-era Boston, Eren is a young police officer making his way when the Great Depression hits and he runs into a certain notorious, yet strangely generous crime boss who offers him work when he needs it most. When he finds out the true identity of his employer and Armin comes down with a life-threatening medical emergency, requiring a costly but life-saving surgery, Eren finds himself caught in the middle of the most painful decision of his life: love or conscience?</p><p>feat. some snazzy 1920s slang. <br/>historical inaccuracies ahoy--just pretend total economic collapse is possible in 24 hours shh.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Burnt Matches

Eren sneered at the drunk slobbering all over the floor of the police car. _Disgusting_ , he thought. The poor sap was facedown, his arms handcuffed behind his back (more of a formality than a necessity) with his behind in the air. Eren felt an urge to kick him over. For men to get so damn blotto when alcohol itself was illegal was just asking to be arrested.

  
"Oi, rookie, don't abuse the prisoners." Eren's superior peered through the grating from the front seat, seeing Eren with his foot in the air just above the prisoner. Eren sighed and sat back down. They told him to watch the drunkard to make sure he didn't try anything funny, but Eren had a feeling they just wanted him to make sure he didn't vomit all over the cabbie. Eren _would_ kick the bastard if he did because he had a feeling he knew who'd end up cleaning it. As if to spite him, the man came out of his stupor for a moment so he could do just that. Eren drove his foot into the man's side.

  
Someday, he'd personally do the same to the bastards behind the illegal production of alcohol.

  
"Woah, look out! It's Boston's finest!" Jean sneered at Eren as he lead the vomit-stained whelp to a cell in the back.

  
"Yeah, yeah. Shut up, Jean. It's not like you arrested anyone today."

  
Jean shrugged and pointed downward. "Maybe not but at least I didn't let scum retch on my shoes."

  
"I what?!" Eren looked down and groaned. In the dark of the cabbie he hadn't noticed that the man had managed to get it on his shoes too. A rag hit Eren in the face.

  
"Here. Let me take him to his cell."

  
Eren pulled the rag from his face to see Mikasa, his star officer of an adopted sister and the first woman in the Boston Force. She pushed him aside lightly and took hold of the bent. Jean watched her go by.

  
"Mm-mm. Ain't she a choice bit of calico, yessir!" Jean stared after her. Eren hit Jean with the rag.

  
"Mind your grubby eyes, piker. That's my sister you're talking about."

  
"Yeah, Jaeger? Go clean your boots." Jean gave him a light shove.

"Why I oughtta clean 'em on your face!" Eren got in Jean's face, his hand balling into a fist around the rag.

  
"Guys, guys. Cool it, cool it."

  
Two hands separated the men and Eren straightened his button-up sportscoat, still stiff from disuse. The owner of the hands crossed his arms across his own matching sportscoat, uncommonly long blonde hair hanging just above the shoulders.

  
"Yeah, yeah, Armin." Jean rolled his eyes and marched off.

  
"Honestly, you two. You fought all through Academy and even now you two always get all frazzed about nothing." Armin took the rag from Eren's fist and started on his shoes. "Take a load off, wouldya? Let's get Mikasa and go find a night joint."

  
"Aw, Armin you know what a heeler I am." Eren rubbed the back of his neck, still feeling the heat of his anger for Jean. But the blonde insisted.

  
"But you always have such a grand time anyway! Just go for the music." Armin smiled up at Eren but his suggestion was met by a pair of rolling eyes. Armin stood to meet Eren's unconvinced gaze. "Aw, c'mon. Dud up and hit the town! We need to relax anyway."

  
Eren watched Armin as he left, trailing behind him sluggishly. He knew Mikasa would find them one way or another, so she was the least of his worries. But relaxing? Sure, he was off the punchcard, but the bootleggers sure weren't. Armin spent most of his day filing paperwork, not chasing streetbums and criminals. He couldn't look at a man and see his malintent, couldn't smell the coffin varnish on his breath from across the room. Eren looked at men to see their sins, and then felt uneasy until they had answered to them. Sure, he himself wasn't perfect, but he'd sworn to never touch a drop of liquor and he'd certainly never dream of buying a woman. Still, others in a city like Boston, relaxing was just out of the question.

  
And yet somehow Eren found himself dressed to the nines, sulking in the back of The Hotsy-Totsy, chewing a cigar and watching skirts twirl about the dance floor. Mikasa tried to stay with him but she was frequently asked to dance and, having proved herself quite the dancer, stayed out on the floor for long hours. Armin too stayed out of sight, chatting up fellas where the music was loudest.

  
Sighing, Eren stood and smoothed his hair back into place. The gel was plenty enough to keep it slicked back, but the habit stood. He was glad for it, rather than the blocky hat he'd worn all day with his police uniform. He strode outside, still holding the cigar in his teeth. When he'd found a place quiet enough, he lit it.

  
He was halfway through it, absent-mindedly tapping the ashes off with a finger when a particularly large man stumbled into the light from the alleyway behind the Hotsy-Totsy. He tripped over himself and fell to his knees, panting.

  
_Great. Another bent-up sap_. Eren thought, chewing on his cigar again. He debated on whether or not to call it in. Just because he wasn't on duty didn't mean someone else couldn't put the goof in the can where he belonged. He peeled himself off the wall, resolving to let it slide when another, much smaller man strode into the clearing.  
"Was I unclear, harp? I says to you 'don't you lose this dog or you're out' didn't I? I says 'you cost me even a bit of jack and you're gonna take a hike for a long while,' didn't I? Well, didn't I?!" The small man had a grey pinstriped jacket suspended over his shoulder in his left hand, his right balled into a fist with the sleeve rolled up. As he strode forward, the man on the ground crawled away.

  
"I'm sorry, boss! I'm sorry! It won't happen again! I promise! I swears to you!" The man had flopped onto his rump, his hands in front of his face to protect himself. Eren noticed he was already bleeding from his nose.

  
The smaller man caught up to the scrambling wreck and slammed him into the ground with a foot. Eren flinched and reached for a baton that wasn't there.

  
"B-boss there's a kid over there." The man whimpered and the smaller one turned to meet Eren with a pair of cold, narrow eyes. His black hair was swept to his right, the sides shaved close to his head. Even from the distance he was, Eren felt suddenly uneasy under the other man's gaze.

  
"Oi. Scram." The man straightened up, turning his back to his victim and flapping the jacket at him. He continued towards Eren as the bleeding man limped off. Eren swallowed heavily as the thug approached him, his saddle oxfords bragging about their price with every step. When he was within an arms-length he stopped and started up at Eren's fidgeting form, grinning when he flinched as he finally spoke.

  
"Heyo, brat, you gots a hope chest with ya?"

  
Eren nodded silently and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. He didn't bother opening it for the man to take one; he just handed him the whole pack. The hood took the pack with delicate fingers and selected a single cigarette, returning the rest to Eren. He produced a pack of matches from the pocket of his pants, the pinstriped counterpart to his jacket, and lit the cigarette in a single smooth motion, discarding the extinguished match as he did so.

  
The two stood in silence, smoke clouding up around them. Eren had given up on the rest of his cigar. Despite how expensive it was, he was too nervous to finish it and it burnt to a crisp between his lips.

  
"Now, chap, you didn't see anything, ya hear?" The boss blew a line of smoke into Eren's face from his thin, pale lips. "Because I need to scuff up my Oxs some more tonight and I ain't talkin' dancin', capice?"

  
"I didn't see a thing." Eren managed, offering the thin man another cigarette as he crushed the butte of the first under his foot. The man obliged, lighting it in the same way.

  
"There's a good fella. Knows what's good for him. Don't you go around snoopin' anymores, got it? Business is business, and Rivaille's a busy-ness man." The man smirked at his own pun and started walking away, waving the cigarette around as he bid Eren farewell.

  
"Stay smart, kid. And keep those ciggys handy so's in case we meet again."

  
Eren pulled a cigarette out of the pack and struck a match, shaking so much that he dropped it before he could light the end. He'd just had a smoke break with some sort of crime boss, and he'd sworn not to tell anyone about it. More than that, he'd never been so scared in his life.

  
_Some policeman I am_ , he thought, staring down at the extinguished match at his feet.


	2. At Large

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> it rains
> 
> Ain't Misbehavin' by Fatts Waller was the #1 dance song in 1929 (when this is set)
> 
> fun fact: windshield wipers were invented in 1903

“Oh, there you are, Eren!” Armin's familiar voice shocked Eren out of his cold-sweat reverie. “We've been looking all over for you!” Mikasa, peering out from behind Armin, nodded in agreement.

“Oh,” Eren murmured, trying to conceal the fresh, discarded buttes and used matches, in excess for him alone.

“Whatcha doin' out here by yourself like some drugstore cowboy?” Armin cocked his head, his ungelled hair moving to the side as he did so, seeming to not notice Eren shuffling his feet and trying to bury the extra cigarettes in the dirt. He looked up and met Mikasa's eye, not scrutinizing him, but still questioning.

“Oh, just takin' a drag is all.” Eren managed to light the unlit cigarette that he'd been holding between his lips since the strange man had left him. He pulled out the pack and extended it to Armin and Mikasa who both politely declined.  
  
“Ah, that's swell. For a second there I'd thought you'd been streeted or somethin'!”

“Nah, nothin' like that.” Eren's head swam as he filled it with more nicotine in an attempt to wash the strange man out of his mind. He certainly didn't want to think about the criminal's lean, exposed arm, or the way his trousers hugged his waist. Men shouldn't do that, especially not officers of the law toward obvious thugs who'd stolen a few cigarettes.

"Well you oughtta come back in! Band says they gonna play Ain't Misbehavin' one more time before the dance closes." Armin grabbed Eren by the wrist and started dragging him to the door, Mikasa walking calmly behind them.

Eren took his place against the back wall again, swaying slightly with the brush strokes of the drum as the piano chirped like a music box. Mikasa was pulled into another dance and even Armin found a partner, a plush brunette who practically begged for him to dance with her. Eren found a chair and fiddled with his gradually emptying box of cigarettes inside his coat pocket.

 _"No one to talk with. All by myself. No one to walk with..."_ Fats Waller's words passed by Eren's ears as they usually did.

 _"Ain't mis behavin', savin' all my love for you."_ And the beat picked up. Eren watched the feet move faster, taking heavier steps. Part of Eren wished he could do the same, but even Mikasa wasn't terribly satisfying as a dance partner.  
  
Everyone danced. Even if they couldn't quite swing. Eren found he wasn't so bad as it as much as he didn't like it. It was just easier to refuse to dance if you said you were saving people's toes from getting mashed by your feet. Eren was used to being alone sitting out popular dances.

When the trio arrived at their run-down urban apartment, Eren floated off to his room, tired of listening to Mikasa and Armin giggling about who had danced with who and how much their feet hurt.

"Hey, Eren, where'ya going?" Mikasa called to him, leaning against a wall as she pulled a shoe off with one hand. "You feelin' ill or something?"

"Nah, just tired is all." Eren tried to smile for Mikasa but the look she gave him said just how convincing he was. "Hard day at work, y'know? I'mma hit the sack. Night!"

Mikasa's mouth dangled open a little as if to say something but Eren's door was shut before she could.

 _What is wrong with me?_ It made sense for Eren to want to dwell on the man beating up the other one--he was a police officer after all and that sort of thing wasn't right. But nothing else made sense.

 _Oh well,_ he flopped onto his bed. _Maybe I just need to sleep._

  
"Big news, fellas!"  
  
The roomful of rookie officers looked up to see Connie Springer, shouting at the top of his lungs and flying down the hallway, a crumpled newspaper in one hand. He stopped in front of them, out of breath.

"What's the rag for?" Jean asked flatly. Connie, still out of breath, held it up for everyone to see.

"NOTORIOUS BOOTLEG GANG LEADER BIG LEVI AT LARGE" read the headline.

"'Big Levi at Large'? Is that s'posed to be funny?" Jean pulled the paper out of Connie's hands.

"What, you mean you've never heard of Big Levi?" Mikasa put on a pout and crossed her arms at Jean. He groaned, knowing he was about to get a lecture. Mikasa's extensive knowledge of criminals was one of the reasons she was allowed into the force as a woman. "Seven years ago, three years into the Prohibition, Big Levi ran the Boston Blackcats, a shipping business on the surface that disguised a massive underground bootleg operation. It was estimated that the Boston Blackcats accounted for approximately eighty percent of alcohol sold at the peak of their day, and that they might even still have some wares left.

"Anyway, the police managed to crack their organization and arrested several of their top operators, but they never could catch Big Levi. They weren't really even sure if he existed since no one had actually ever seen him. To this day we don't know what he looks like. For about five years rumors about the Boston Blackcats surfaced every now and then, but until now every trail was a dead end."

Eren quaked with anger. Big Levi. So he was the one to blame. Seven years ago, when a drunk driver killed Eren's mother, Big Levi had been the one really at fault. He was the one in charge of everything. He was the one fueling the most putrid members of society. Eren jumped as he found a hand on his shoulder.

"You okay?" Mikasa looked at him quizzically. Eren ignored the look he was getting from Jean for her concern.

"Yeah, just dandy. I gotta take a stroll for a bit, maybe get some smokes." Eren shook off Mikasa's hand. "I'll be back in a bit."

"I'll go with you."

Eren's back was already to Mikasa, his feet walking him out the door. He needed something other than the stuffy police headquarters.

"I'd rather you didn't." Eren tried not to look back, knowing how hurt Mikasa would be. He walked faster, hearing Mikasa's tiny reply from behind him.

"Oh, okay."

"Hey, forget that wet blanket, bearcat." Jean's voice was quiet from Eren's distance, but he knew Mikasa was okay when he caught the faintest bit of her address to Jean.

"Go chase yourself, Jean."

Eren smiled to himself.

  
  
Eren meandered about in the wake of a light drizzle, which he had chosen to ignore, but fate swung its heavy hand at the clouds and on the way back to the station, the sky opened up and let loose a rain like Boston had never seen, the kind that only comes once every few years. Eren could scarcely see through the sheet rain and the wind blew him this way and that. At first he had lamented that his new pack of cigarettes would get wet, but as he tried to walk on he began to wonder if Boston would ever be dry again. A screech of wet rubber caught Eren's attention.

"Oi, brat." Two men clambered out of a car that had stopped next to where Eren stood squinting at the rain. One held an umbrella over him and the other wrapped him in a large towel. "Get in."

It wasn't a request so much as a demand. One of the men behind Eren pushed him into the car, his arms immobilized by the towel.

When he got over how wet he was, Eren looked about the cabbie and almost gasped at its luxury. A strangely familiar voice snapped him out of his amazement.

"Ya thick or something? Getting caught in the rain like that? There's nothin' to ya but skin 'n' bones! You'd wash away."

Eren opened his mouth to say something about the difference in size between him and the small man who'd, for all intensive purposes, just kidnapped him, but decided against it. Something of a memory of the man beating up a much larger man made him think it wise.

"What's a brat like you doin' out in the rain anyhows?"

Out of the inside of his soaked jacket, Eren pulled out the pack of cigarettes he'd just bought and gave a weak smile. The other man just laughed heartily.

"Well I'll be damned. Doin' what I told ya, eh? Give 'em here then."

Eren marvelled at the car's ability to navigate the monsoon before he came to his senses.

"Wait, uh, mister."

The man lifted an eyebrow as he brought a match to the tip of the surprisingly dry cigarette at his lips.

"Th-thank you." Eren wondered why it was suddenly harder to speak. Maybe it was the chills from being so wet.

"Consider it a favor. I'm always lookin' out for men with good taste in cigs."

The two sat in silence while smoke filled the cabbie. Eren was used to being driven around since he himself didn't own a car, but nothing like this, with such lavish and luxury. The men in the front were hulking and silent, clearly dutiful guard dogs and nothing else. Eren piped up again.

"I, uh, don't know what to call you."

The man grunted. "You first, brat. Don't you respect your elders? Hows about I find out if you ain't one of my enemies' thousand sons first--and trust me I make names my business."

"I'm Eren." He mumbled somewhat sheepishly. The other man smiled lightly.

"Nope. Don't know ya. Call me Rivaille."


	3. East Coast Swing

  
Rain gushed incesantly down the window, its greedy fingers grabbing at every inch of the glass. Looking out, Eren found himself fearing that all of Boston would drown. Or at the very least, that Armin and Mikasa wouldn't make it home alright. Surely they had to be worried about him. Work hours were almost over and he'd left his badge and jacket. If they somehow found his hat, which had blown off in the storm somewhere close to the station, they'd probably think him dead. More than anything, Eren wanted to let them know he was alright.

"Somethin' worrying you?" A small, sweet girl with honey-colored hair seated herself next to Eren at the window.

"Oh," Eren tried to relax in the stiff, unworn (but thankfully dry) clothes he'd been lent. "I'm just worried about my sister and best friend is all."

"Hm," the little woman looked him over. "I know how you feel. I was afraid Rivaille wouldn't make it home in this weather either. But his drivers are the best of the best, the real cat's meow!" She grinned.

"Oh, are you his wife?"

The woman laughed. "No, my name's Petra. We live here together but he's more like a big brother to me. He did some favors for my folks awhile back and when they died a couple years ago I was still underage so Rivaille got custody of me."

Eren glanced around the magnificent mansion. It was more of a palace than a house. He knew the money behind it probably wasn't of the most honest earnings, but he couldn't help but admire the grandeur.

"Petra, don't harass my findings." Rivaille padded in wearing a scarlet silk robe so fine it reflected the firelight flickering in the fireplace. A maid scurried in behind him with a tray holding three steaming mugs.

"Oolong," Rivaille purred as the tray was extended to Eren. Not entirely sure what an oolong was, Eren took the mug tentatively, sniffing it carefully before taking a sip. As he drank, having found it to be a surprisingly delightful tea, he watched Rivaille drink from his own mug, taking small, delicate sips. Grace. Elegance. This was not a man who beats hoodlums on the streets.

"You sure are fancier at home." Eren muttered out loud, not thinking. Rivaille froze mid-sip to eye Eren icily. "I, uh, mean...your house is so...fancy?"

Rivaille set his mug down and sat back, sighing.

"Yes. Fancy. An empty castle more like. But I know what you meant. I'm not the man I am on the streets. But Eren," he leaned forward, "what man is? I need my image there for business, but in my home, my palace, I am a king. I'm free to relax in my own excessive wealth. So tell me, who are you in your palace?"

"I'm a man who taps his toes." Eren wasn't sure what he was saying. The soft, slow swing on the gilded phonograph by the fireplace had caught his attention and Eren found himself slowly tapping his toes. His response was all he could think to say under the man's probing gaze. Before Rivaille could answer, the door buzzed and Petra sprang to her feet.

"That's Aururo!" She started for the door but Rivaille's tone of voice drew her back.

"Leatherfaced bastard. Tryna to be too much like me." The street thug had made his return. "It's rainin' too hard. You ain't goin' out tonight, doll."

Petra flashed him a furious look. "It's lightenin' up! Besides, Erdo and Gunter are coming with me, like always?" It was more of an annoyed question than a statement of fact. Rivaille softened visibly.

"Very well. But be careful. And don't stay out too late or the doors might just stay locked the whole night." He gave her a hard, serious look.

Her skirts flew about her as she darted for the door, two men stomping about behind her to keep up.

"A man who taps his toes in the home of a connoisseur of the record and a live wire owl with hot feet," Rivaille mused, still eyeing the hall to the door. His gaze shifted back to Eren. "You don't dance?"

"I don't like to." Eren felt challenged by the question more than anything.

"Surely you've got a little Charleston in you. Lindy-Hop? Plain ole Swing? East coast of course. I'll have none of that West coast nonsense. Counting in six; who the hell do they think they are, Tchaikovsky? Tsk."

The man stood so that his oxfords clicked on the polished wood. Eren found a hand in his face.

"Have a little East coast spirit. Make Boston proud."

"I, uh..."

"Well, old sport? Are you going to wait for your ass to take root in my couch or are you going to dust the cobwebs off your Charleston?"

Hesitantly, Eren took the hand presented to him and began searching for an exit that wouldn't involve soaking the most expensive clothes he'd ever worn, particularly since he'd borrowed them from a thug. He seemed to draw upwards closer and closer in slow motion, unable to break away from the hard, challenging gaze boring into him. As the man's other hand came around to clasp Eren's elbow, going for closed position, Eren spun away entirely, trying not to trip over the luxurious couch he'd been seated on contentedly only moments before.

"Do...do you have a telephone?" Eren stammered, almost proud of himself for finding his escape. "I h-have to tell Mikasa I'm okay."

"Checking in with the old ball-and-chain?" Rivaille mused, padding over to the phonograph to turn it off.

Eren's only response was a nervous smile, which, to his relief, Rivaille accepted. The man motioned silently with one finger for Eren to follow him down a bright, marble hallway. The way he carried himself, the way the bottoms of his pants brushed his shoes, the way he smelled and spoke (albeit only in his own home)--all of it confused Eren. It reeked of money.

"Here." Rivaille said flatly, pointing out the telephone.

Even it seemed of extraordinary grandeur--ebony and ivory with a silver dial, on its own delicately carved oak table. Above it, a gilded mirror mouthed the words of anyone daring or vain enough to watch themselves talk. Eren avoided looking at this, fearing himself to look entirely too plain with the outlandish phone to his ear. He focused his gaze on the dial, spinning it with unnecessary concentration.

"Hello?" The confused voice of Sasha, the station's errand girl and some sort of trouble-making niece to one of the commanders (who had given her the job to take care of her 'idle hands') answered Eren's call.

"Sasha! Hear me, is Mikasa around?"

"Mikasa? Oh yeah. Nobody can leave in this here storm."

"Can you get her for me? It's Eren."

"Can I...uh...oh yeah!" The sound of the phone being set down on the desk a tad forcefully followed. Mikasa was on the other end of the line as fast as Eren expected.

"Eren! Where are you? Are you okay?"

"Hey, I'm fine, I'm fine. I ran into someone I met yesterday by chance and he got me outta the rain. Just havin' some tea, y'know."

"Where are you?" She repeated somewhat urgently. "I'll come get you!"

"No, no, doll. Stay where you are. I'll be okay." Eren wasn't totally convinced of this but for Mikasa's safety he had to fib to her.

"Okay... Just, come home as soon as you can! And try not to do anythin' stupid, wouldya?"

Rivaille paced about Eren as he talked, making him more and more uncomfortable.

"I got it, I got it. Tell Armin I'm okay, too. I think I gotta go. Later."

"...bye."

Eren hung up the phone with care.

"A son too, eh?"

"Beg pardon?" Eren blinked dazedly.

"Armin." Once again Eren fell under the heat of the twin coals set in Rivaille's face.

"Oh, no. Mikasa's not my wife. She's more like my sister. Armin is our best friend."

"Ah. Like Petra and myself, then. It seems us men must always pick up where lesser men have left off."

"Well, I wouldn't call it that. Unless I'm Petra. Mikasa's a very...strong character."

Rivaille laughed and started back to the central room. "Ah yes. Society needs a few bearcats around these days. Lesser men will call them bitches but really, I think they're all scared of short skirts and women in trousers. Pathetic."

"You're, uh, really passionate about this..." Eren looked at the man quizically. For a man to voice so strongly the changing role of women was unheard of. Most preferred to ignore it while the rest fought it.

"Boys learn from their mothers. All's well and good when daddy's not around to beat ya." It sounded like a joke. "But come." Rivaille strode over to the phonogram again.

"You owe me a dance."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Swing dancing notes: Closed position is where both partners face one another with the female partner's right hand in the male's left, her left on his shoulder or elbow and his right on her back or upper arm.  
> East coast swing is counted in four and generally moves in circular motions as a pair whereas West coast is counted in six and moves in linear motions with the woman doing most of the walking while the guy just kinda guides her.


	4. Behind the Clouds

It was inevitable. Eren was trapped; his uniform pants drying in god-knows-what room of the glittering prison, not to mention the fear he had for his own life in the house of a man whom he'd seen pummel someone twice his size. When the hand descended a second time, palm-down and demanding, rather than before when it up and inviting, Eren felt he hand no choice but to accept it. With a sweating hand resting on a small but lean shoulderblade, Eren drank in the sound of the record "shh"ing the room with its trademark static intro and bading the dance to begin.

Despite being in lead position, Eren found himself whisked around the floor by Rivaille's nimble little feet. Spinning him was captivating; where he expected to see a whirl of skirts to catch his eye, instead he watched the long top half of the man's soft hair spin with him. He'd bathed when they arrived at the mansion, while Eren was changing, and the gel that had slicked back the gangster's hair had been neglected after the fact, leaving soft curtains to frame a gentleman's face. The dance was over as soon as it started.

"Strange time for a rain like this, October is." Rivaille was seated comfortably on his own couch, idly bringing a match to the bowl of a pipe pinned between his teeth.

"Yeah, well. Boston has a mind of her own, y'know." Eren's head spun with visions of similarly-motioned dancers. "My old man always said a rain like this meant somethin' nasty was hiding behind the clouds, makin' 'em squirm. Once it's done with the clouds, it'll come for Boston."

Rivaille didn't respond. He simply mused over the end of his pipe and let out a few puffs not unlike the raging clouds outside.

Eren couldn't fathom spending to the end of the storm in his gilded prison. Naturally, he was grateful--as bad as the storm had been when the car had pulled up, he could've easily ended up somewhere less than savory, very muc less than alive due to a number of elements. But his gratefullness had subsided and he was getting antsy thinking about staying the night in his gilded prison. At the very least, the drunks wouldn't be patrolling any more than he.

As if the clouds of smoke had brought the thunder into the marble palace, a man burst through the door in a single crash of sound and water, an exploding river met by swarming servants. The sound, of course, was enough to alert the men enjoying smokes and tea in the main room, but the water and commotion added a sense of urgency to the matter. Rivaille was up and in the other room in a similarly fast burst, although his was silent and airy, almost calm. Eren followed after.

The two nearly collided. Rivaille stopped suddenly as the servants cleared away at his approach, but Eren took his time noticing that and awkwardly side-stepped to avoid a collision. He nearly fell over when he saw why Rivaille had stopped, partially from his wavering balance from his fumble, but primarily from what he saw. The manservant who had accompanied Petra, the one with his hair greased curiously upwards, lay bleeding on the ground.

To Eren's surprise, the sophisticated man knelt down to clasp the hand of the soaking, bleeding one as he drew ragged last breaths.

"Boss," the man wheezed.

"What happened? Where is Petra?" Eren could hear the panicked edge on Rivaille's voice.

"Things...got ugly at dance. Shots...fired."

"Petra. Where's Petra?"

"Saw lots...men surrounding her...shot me..."

He breathed his last and collapsed, his limp hand falling from Rivaille's as he stood. When he spoke again, he barked a command in a voice that did not belong to the gentleman owner of the palace, now stained with forebearing blood.

"Get me the damned car. Call Mike and the boys. Any man who finds me Petra gets the lion's share for a month. Any man who brings me any man who lay a hand on her gets half of mine for six. Capice? Get outta here."

Servants swarmed and flitted about, seeming to appear from nowhere. The house came to life; men came in and out, the phone rang countless times, and the rain only seemed to get harder. Clothes were brought to Rivaille, and somewhere in the mass of servants he was changed into them before he seemed to remember Eren's existence.

After an unreadable glance, he called forth some nameless servant to send Eren to a room for the night.

"Wait, uh, Rivaille." Eren wasn't about to be locked up in the rain by himself after a shoot out. He couldn't in good conscience as an officer. "Sir. Let me go with you. I'm--" He hesitated, not sure if identifying himself to a criminal would be wise. "I'm an officer of the law. I can arrest those men and see to it that they're punished accordingly." He stepped forward firmly.

"Look, kid. I knew you was a cop, and frankly I don't give a shit. Nothing you bulls'll do to those grubs is on my agenda. Do what you want. I'm taking what I want and the bulls can have what's left."

  
The car drove faster than Eren deemed safe in the rain by a long mile. He tried not to dig his nails into the fine leather. The thug yelled at the drivers to go faster, faster.

There wasn't much left when they got there. Everyone had fled the scene but for the dead and dying, and the police, in light of the weather, had yet to arrive. Eren wasn't even sure they'd heard about it yet, and their cars were certainly nothing compared to what big money could buy. Men poured out of the cars as they arrived. Eren trailed after Rivaille's nimble form, forcibly throwing an arm upward against the sheets of rain to shield his eyes.

"Spread out and search! Bring me any fella that can talk!"

As a policeman, Eren felt he should've been prepared to see dead bodies. Yet as he entered the dancehall, his stomach felt queasy. It wasn't The Hotsy-Totsy, but it very well could've been. The bodies slumped over chairs, bleeding on the polished wood could've very well been his, Armin's, Mikasa's. He almost felt the need to check to make sure.

"Boss!"

Rivaille snapped around and nearly knocked Eren over to head in the direction of the voice. He paused as he glanced at a few of the bodies, one of which resembled the other bodyguard Petra had taken with her, but kept walking. Eren followed.

He managed to see Rivaille stop in time before nearly running into him again. He watched the man's shoulders drop from their cocky, angry height and almost felt the presence of the gentleman again. Eren couldn't see what Rivaille saw, but the expression on his face was empty, his eyes cold, hard-lined ovals draped in shadow.

"Petra..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AUGH this took too long. Things go from "dayummmm sonnnnn" to "GODDAMN SON!!!" 
> 
> also, it's October (say, around the 20th?) of 1929, so you history buffs know what's about to happen. I'm pretty happy with this chapter though. Start of the heavy stuff aw yiss.
> 
> Thank you to all my readers! <3 if you like it, feel free to drop some kudos my way and I appreciate all comments. If any of you are crazy enough to blog about this, also feel free to use the tag fic: too far gone. Thanks loves! See you next Friday/Saturday (when I intend to update from now on)


	5. Oct. 29th, 1929

"Leave me."

The gangster returned the instant he'd vanished. His croonies left, but Eren found himself rooted to the spot, looking at a face full of an all-too-familiar hurt. He flinched when the thug turned on him.

"You thick or somethin'? I said get the hell outta here, brat!"

Eren threw up his hands as if to defend himself, but he didn't move an inch.

"I can help. This is crime; we'll solve it." Eren stood his ground, giving Rivaille a hard look.

"Hah, except it ain't crime. You think you know crime. This ain't crime. This is life. You wanna help, you says? Get the hell outta here 'n' go play cop somewheres else."

Hurt, Eren took a step back. Seeing the look on Rivaille's face, he couldn't just stand around doing nothing. Criminal or not, the situation made him family of a victim of spree-shooting. The more he tried to find ways to help, the more he found himself at a loss.

"I'll find out who's behind this! I-I promise!" Eren yelled as he ran out of the dance hall, determined to make his way back to the station. He heard Rivaille 'tch' disdainfully as he ran.

The rain had lightened up completely to a dull drizzle, despite Eren's fearful squint as he ran into the night air. He'd have no trouble making it back to the station.  
  
Yet as he ran, he felt more than just the cool, light rain on his face, and it wasn't as easy to see as he would've though. Hot tears clouded his vision and made their way down his cheeks, sure to do any job the rain had yet to do.

"Godammit," he muttered, wiping them away. Rather than making his way to the station, he found himself trudging up the old stairs to his apartment building.

"Eren you're home!" Mikasa had him in a hug before he'd even fully realized he was in the door.

"How did you--"

"What on earth are you wearing? Where is your uniform? God, I was so worried about you!"

Eren couldn't even speak for Mikasa's unnecessarily tight hug.

"Where's Armin?" He finally managed, noticing his absence.

"Oh, I guess you didn't hear. There was a big shooting at some dance hall not too far from here. They needed some fellas to go check it out and they sent the rest of us home." She put a strange amount of emphasis on the word 'fellas'.

"N-no, I didn't hear about it. Listen, I gotta change and get some shut-eye. Night, okay?" Eren started for his room, pulling out of Mikasa's arms.

"You can't go to work tomorrow without your uniform." She said this flatly, a little upset at his withdrawl.

"Yeah, I know. I'll pick it up on my way." He slammed the door to his room but it didn't stop him from hearing her reply.

"I know it's hard for you sometimes, but you don't have to keep your feelings a secret from me, Eren." Silence. "Are you listening to me?" More silence. "Alright, night then."

Eren stared at the door until he heard her footprints shuffle away.

  
Having been obscured by rain and tragedy, Eren caught his first glimpse of the exterior of the mansion. It was more magnificent than he could've imagined. And getting in was even more difficult than he'd thought.

"No, I just need to pick up my uniform, I was here yesterday..."

The servant shook his head for the nth time, repeating a mantra that seemed to be only for the occasion.

"No one gets in. Boss forbid it. Bad time." He spoke with a thick Italian accent.

"Can you just get someone to bring me my damned pants?" Eren felt his face getting hot and he knew he'd have to calm himself down before his impulsive temper got the better of him.

"Stupido, muoverti." A gruff voice, this time sparing the English and going straight for Italian, came out from behind the man in Eren's way.

The man appeared flustered, recognizing the voice without turning around and mumbled something in Italian before scurrying off. Empty space where he had been allowed a pair of pants to hit Eren in the face.

"Get lost, little bull."

Eren pulled the pants away from his face and looked down at them as Rivaille walked away.

"W-wait! I need my shirt too!"

Rivaille's reponse was an annoyed scowl and a jerk of his head indicating for Eren to follow him. His hair was gelled back again, but a single strand bobbed about freely. He looked like he hadn't slept since Eren saw him last. His oxfords hit the ground with more thud and less click than before.

"Here." He jerked his head toward the bed where Eren had flung his wet shirt the previous night. The loose strand bobbed about again and Rivaille stood strangely still. "It wasn't washed but we're busy right now so tough grits." His shadowed eyes watched Eren as he retrieved the shirt. Looking at Rivaille, Eren saw the remnants of a broken man, one forcibly holding himself together. It brought him a tinge of familiar pain.

"Are you alright?"

"The fuck kind of question is that? You have your shirt. Scram."

"Capo!" A servant, different from the one before darted in the room and began a lengthy spiel in Italian.

Rivaille's eyebrows went up and then a deep frown set in.

"Sei positivo?" His voice was a soft rasp. The servant nodded grimly. Rivaille dismissed him with a wave of his hand. With that same hand, he pressed his fingers into his forehead and then dug the heels of his palms into his eye sockets.

"I think it's time you left." The man speaking was smaller than Eren had ever seen. Unable to respond, he allowed himself to be lead out and darted off to work.

  
"Thank god you're here!"

The station was a chaotic mess of papers and the phone rang off the hook. Sasha tossed herself at Eren in a hug and babbled something so quickly he didn't have time to comprehend it until she was halfway down the hallway.

"Answer the phone...?" Eren looked at the device as if he wasn't sure what it was and hesitantly answered it. A disgruntled citizen was going on and on about theft and eventually just hung up. Another call came through and Eren came to his senses.

"May I speak with Chief Smith?" This caller was much calmer.

"Uh, may I ask who's calling?" Eren looked around for a pen or something to write with. He wasn't even sure what the hell Sasha did as a receptionist.

"Nevermind the name, it's urgent."

"My commander is always very busy, I can't just--"

"Yeah, we're all up to our eyeballs in work, kiddo, the goddamned stock market just crashed. More than anything I need Smith on the line and don't dawdle about it."

"The what?"

Sasha returned and took the phone from his hand. "Thanks! I had to pee so bad! You don't even know!" She sat down and started babbling to the caller.

A hand fell heavily on Eren's shoulder.

"Rookie." A deep voice echoed in his ears. "It looks like no one's explained this to you yet, but the whole world's gone to hell and this time we've got no money to buy our way out."

"Wha--"

"Hush, fella. These come straight from the top of the line so don't argue too much, right? You're suspended for a time. You and the rest of the rookies until we can afford to pay you." He gave Eren a heavy pat on the shoulders. "You understand, right?" And walked away.

Everyone who'd gone to academy in his year stood huddled outside the meeting room, where everyone who was anyone seemed to be having a large, loud argument.

"Mikasa, Armin, what the hell is going on?" Several faces turned to Eren and then promptly turned away. It was Connie who finally spoke up.

"It's over. Nobody's got any money. The market went bad so people tried to take everything they had outta the banks but the banks ain't got enough to pay everybody and they wasn't takin' no credit."

"I knew that stuff was a bad idea." Jean mumbled.

"They put us all on reserve. We're still in the force but we won't work and they won't pay us." Armin gave a hard stare to the floor.

Eren's rising anger fizzled out into hopelessness as Mikasa grabbed him and Armin in a hug and then escorted them home.

  
A week had passed since the worst had come to stay and it had only seemed to grow more fond of draining people's pocketbooks. Eren gathered what little money he could find and headed out to the grocer's. It was drizzling again.

"So you got it tough, huh?" A disturbingly familiar voice snapped Eren out of his reverie as he counted his pennies once more, trying to estimate how much he could buy. Something flashed in the air and in a moment of unnatural coordination, Eren managed to catch it, nearly dropping it as he saw what it was.

"The hell's this for?" He held the quarter up to his benefactor.

"Downpayment." Rivaille smiled, visibly refreshed in comparison to what he'd been a week prior, but still not nearly the powerful man he'd been the night Eren had first met him. If anything, he was that much more terrifying in his lack of external confidence.

"For what?"

"I've got a job and I know you're short on cash. Take it, and you're guaranteed four of those every hour or so. The better you are, the more you make."

Eren eyed the shining coin in his palm conflictedly. Amidst the pennies, it was an intense ray of hope and his empty stomach seemed to recognize that and gurgled loudly.

"At the very least," Rivaille continued, "Your stomach seems to think it's a good idea. Stop by tomorrow morning if you're interested." He started to walk away so Eren called after him.

"Wait, what the hell would I even be doing in this job?"

Rivaille smiled. "Well, let's just say I've got uses for men like you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's late! I'm sorry. Ughhhh. I feel like it goes kinda fast, but I wanted to move to the pivotal point without boring you all to death. 
> 
> Before you hate on me and go on about Levi being French and not Italian, hold your horses, I'm going to explain that in a bit. 
> 
> As always, I greatly appreciate comments/kudos and anything else. If you like it, share it! If not, leave me a bit of constructive criticism! :D


	6. Capo

The corduroy pants Eren had chosen scratched the inside of his thighs as he strode up to the large metal gate outside of the mansion he was becoming all-too-familiar with. They'd been Mikasa's idea. He wondered if he should've been more specific with his description of the job he was applying for. But then, he valued his life.

He was let in immediately with a few curt Italian words following behind him as the servants shut the gates and led him inside. The sheer number of them milling about was more than Eren remembered on the first day, although until the man had stumbled in, Eren couldn't remember seeing any of them.

"Capo." The servant bowed and left.

Rivaille was splayed in a chair smoking a thick cigar, one hand draped over his phonogram, periodically lifing the needle and dropping it in random places, then allowing it to play until he got bored and did it once more.

"I, uh, didn't know you were Italian."

Rivaille removed the needle from the record and sat up. "I'm not."

He adopted an amused half-smile at Eren's confusion.

"I'm French, actually. Not that I've needed to speak it in a number of years. We French are few and far between here in Boston. Petra's mother was the first one I met that I wasn't related to. Her father was of course Italian like every other guido in this damned city, but they were good people."

"Why do they call you capo?"

"It means boss in Italian, are you really that thick?" He got up and stretched himself like a cat after a long nap, knocking a book out of his lap to the ground. He didn't seem to notice. "Besides, have you ever heard an Italian try to say Rivaille?" The way his name fell from his lips was like music. Eren shook his head vigorously, abhorring the idea of a foreign tongue marring such poetry. He wondered if he himself could ever even say it again.

"You, uh, dropped your book." Eren shifted uncomfortably, trying to get the sound of his name out of his head.

"Hemingway."

"Beg your pardon?"

"A Farewell to Arms. It's actually fairly new. I don't suppose you're familiar with Hemingway."

Eren shook his head.

"Ah, well. Later then. It covers a vast span of topics, primarily romance and war. Tell me, do you know how to use a gun?"

"I reckon I do, being a police officer and whatnot."

Rivaille scoffed. "Handling a firearm like an officer and handling one as a man are two different concepts. Guard training?"

"Uh, a bit?"

"Does the Academy even try to teach you things, or is it all just one big blow?"

Eren felt his face get hotter. "Why I never. There were no parties in Academy."

"Right, then. It must just be a joke or they'd have never let a woman in."

More anger flooded Eren's system. "How dare you!" He pulled back his arm for a swing. Rivaille's eyes followed his fist as it came and lightly side-stepped, grabbing it and pinning it behind his back in one smooth motion.

"Not bad. Fiery. I like it. A bit impulsive, but overall rather passionate. Despite your lack of training in my usually required fields, you'll be a breath of fresh air in my crowds of bimbos."

Eren winced, dazed from what has just happened.

"Aside from that, a little impulse is good. Gut-reactions have saved my tail more than I care to count. Do you want the job or not, last offer."

"I, uh, yes." Eren couldn't help but wonder if pinning his arm behind his back was a part of the persuasion process.

"Excellent." Rivaille said through his teeth. He gave a sharp whistle as he let go of Eren's arm. "You're to go with Paolo here to train until dinner." He added in a bit of Italian for the man Eren assumed to be Paolo, who nodded and grabbed Eren's arm.

"Do try to learn things. I am paying you after all."

  
By the time dinner rolled around, Eren was more sore than he could've imagined. To his surprise, the dining room was empty. Grand, but very empty. Only Rivaille decorated the room with life, sitting complacently at the head of the long, ovular white table. Eren took his seat, grimacing from his sore muscles, at the foot. The two ate in silence for a few moments.

"Do you have someone expecting you home?" Rivaille cut his steak nonchalantly, not looking at Eren.

"I guess not. I could just call Mikasa and Armin to let them know."

"Good. You're to guard me in the night."

Eren looked down at his steak dinner. Without a doubt, it was the finest thing he'd ever eaten, but it suddenly looked less appetizing. The idea of being alone in a room with a man in the night made his stomach turn. Since it wasn't a question, Rivaille did not wait for a response and the two finished eating without another word. When Rivailled finished, Eren felt compelled to stand and follow him. While he hadn't seen a clock since he left his apartment in the morning, Eren figured it had to be around ten o'clock. Part of him wondered why Rivaille had waited so long for supper, but the other part didn't really want the answer to that.

Eren walked behind Rivaille's quick yet strangely fumbling steps. When they arrived at his room, surprisingly ordinary in light of some of the other rooms Eren had seen, he pointed at a chair next to the door, capable of overlooking the clean white bed and the large window across from the door.

"You'll sit here. Try not to fall asleep. Vincenzo or Pietro or some goon will relieve you around 3 or 4." Rivaille stumbled off to his bed, Eren's eyes following him curiously. Much to his surprise, the man tripped and caught himself on a nightstand. Eren rushed over to help.

"Are you okay?"

"Never better." Rivaille grabbed a handful of Eren's shirt and pulled himself up, their faces uncomfortably close. "Your eyes are so...alluring."

Eren squirmed and tried to escape his grip. "I think you need to sleep." Panic was setting in. With his current financial state, Eren was in no position to offend his employer, drunk or not, but the hint of liquor on his breath and the sudden proximity made Eren's head spin. His clarity of speech surprised him. He tried to ignore, only for Mikasa and Armin's sake, his disgust at the idea of anyone drinking. Money was money, afterall.

"Why do you deny it to yourself?" The distance between them had not increased but Eren's discomfort had.

"Uh, deny?" He stammered, still trying to pull Rivaille's hand away as gently as possible.

"I know it when I see it. The way you look at me. You're not particularly fond of women, are you, Eren?"

Eren tried to ignore the parts of him stiffening at the mention of his name.

"I d-don't know what you're talking about."

"Sure you do." More of the distance closed. "You punched pretty hard. I know you're stronger than you're resisting."

Rooted to the spot, Eren tried to avoid the man's gaze completely, sweat beading at his forehead.

"Don't," hot breath on his face, "resist."

Eren clamped his eyes shut as a pair of lips, soft and warm, met his. Alarms blared in his head, going on about every level of wrong with that moment. He knew his neck could move his head backwards, out of the situation, and he begged himself to do it, but nothing would move. Nothing, save his lips, which ellicited the tiniest response to Rivaille's. Having gotten that, the man let go.

"What did I tell you?" He flopped face-down onto his bed, still mumbling. As he turned, Eren caught him saying, "don't forget you're staying. I'm paying you."

Eren stood frozen for another several minutes, his hand clamped over his mouth in disbelief. His mind was a mess but his body still wouldn't move. Thinking the situation inexplicable, Eren finally moved himself, his limbs like jelly, and carefully removed Rivaille's shoes. Hopefully, getting drunk and falling asleep fully clothed was normal and the next guard wouldn't overthink it.

Eren crept backwards to his chair and sat, staring wide-eyed at the window.

_What the fuck have I gotten myself into?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FRIDAY GIFT! Ooooooh things are getting H-O-T hotttt. Today was pretty good (except for me leaving my tea at home this morning) and I slammed this out last night because BAM! inspiration, so here go! 
> 
> Farewell to Arms came out in 1929 (Jan/Feb?), not that Eren is particularly into literature. 
> 
> ngl, Rivaille/Levi's shoes are my favorite things ever so they *must* be described constantly. (saddle oxfords need to come backkkk) 
> 
> As always, thanks for reading! You guys are the best. <3 Kudos and comments make me happy~ :3


	7. Dead Soldiers

Eren didn't know much about Italians, but he was learning fast. Getting them angry when they were training you as a bodyguard, he found, was not such a good idea. His temper had gotten the better of him and as a result he found himself wearing a new fat lip to "match the lip he'd given his instructor." As he rubbed his sore muscles and followed his instructor into a dining room different from the one he'd eaten in last night, he considered just going home.

Again, Mikasa and Armin stopped him. The thought of their faces, both of them unable to find work anywhere in light of the mishap with the stock market, was the only thing that kept Eren going. He didn't even want to think about what had happened his first night on duty. The only thing that mattered was the rent paid, the lights on, and the bellies full. It was beneath his morals to work for a thug in the first place, but to be involved with a drinking man...Eren shuddered at the thought.

"Aha!" A square woman made her way through the rows of eating men. Lacking both Italian and peers, Eren sat off to one side, watching her nudge her way around. Strikingly, she wore pants and a jacket, like a man, but for her voice and mannerisms, she could've been one. "Does anyone know where my darling Rivaille is?" She spoke in a flowing French accent, Rivaille's name falling perfectly from her lips. She pointed at one of the men.

"You, spaghetti. Where's Rivaille? _Dove è capo_?"

The man she addressed looked at her and then went back to his food.

"How rude!" She spun about. "Clearly none of you raviolis speak French, so do any of you at least speak English?"

"I do!" Eren spoke up louder than he'd intended to. After getting his ass handed to him in Italian, he figured embarrassing himself in English was a better alternative. A soft chuckle rippled through the men as they ate.

"Ah, _très bon!_   Follow me, _ma puce_.*"

Eren took a second to comprehend the part of the command that was in English before getting up and following the woman who hadn't even bothered to make sure he followed before waltzing off.

"Tell me, what do you do for dearest capo?"

"I'm, uh, the night guard?" That was as much as Eren knew.

"Excellent! I need you to make sure he doesn't drink with his medicine tonight. I know he did last night because he sleeps in his clothes. Morning, I go to wake him up and he is out cold, in his clothes like some...some...dewdropper!" She waved her hands about in frustration. "And now I can not find him. He say I scold him too much."

"Medicine?"

"Oh yes. He say 'Hanji, I can not sleep' so I give him medicine and he sleeps." She nodded enthusiastically, her glasses bobbing up on the bridge of her nose. "But then he drinks and he acts strange. Even a little, I tell him, not good. He don't believe me."

"Has he always been like this?" Eren felt relieved to know that he wasn't totally drunk, although he still wasn't fond of drinking, he was glad for the explanation.

"Oh, _non_. It is recent. I don't know why. He does not tell me things. I say 'Rivaille, I am your cousin, your friend, why do you not tell me these things?' In France, I am a doctor. I work very hard, but still after the war it is bad. So I come here and they say to me, 'women are not doctors!' so I am reporter. Rivaille brought me here to be his doctor and for his raviolis too." She giggled a little, clearly fond of calling the Italians pasta.

Eren's head spun trying to keep up with her conversation. Everything she did was exaggerated and enthusiastic, and even without a full grasp of English she babbled incessantly.

"Do you think he remembers the things he does when he takes his medicine?" Eren looked at the woman, watching her ponytail bob about as she babbled.

"Eh? Who can say? I 'ave not asked."

One of the henchmen emerged from the mess hall where they'd been eating and went to Eren, tapping him on the shoulder to pull him away from Hanji as she tried to continue.

"You are to watch capo now." He pointed in the direction of Rivaille's room.  
  
He was getting used to the layout of the mansion, and eating dinner late. Staying up half of the night and training for six hours after sleeping through the day, he didn't like so much. Eren nodded and turned around to say goodbye to Hanji, but she was already halfway down the hall, fumbling around with some papers in her arms.

  
"Sir?" Eren peered around Rivaille's room. It was pitch black, darker than the night before due to the curtains on the windows drawn tight. A small ray of light crept across the floor from underneath a door on the far wall. Eren followed it and entered the room, which he saw to be a lush bathroom, in contrast to the simple bedroom it was attached to.

Rivaille was curled around the toilet, his small figure motionless. But for his heavy breathing, Eren would've thought him dead.

"S-sir?" Eren advanced hesitantly. Rivaille heaved and vomited and Eren wrinkled his nose and turned away. _He must be really drunk this time_. He stepped forward with disgust. To his surprise though, he didn't smell of liquor.

"W-were you drinking and taking your medicine? Hanji said that's bad..."

Rivaille reached behind himself and grabbed a handful of toilet paper, which he used to wipe his mouth and nose before turning around. His eyes were red and puffy, teary beyond the vomit-induced watering.

"I keep seeing it." He rasped, turning back around to hang over the bowl again.

Eren dropped to his knees and scooted within arm's reach.

"Keep seeing what?"

"Her face. The floor. The blood. The cuts." He turned around, clenching the seat so hard his knuckles were white. "They cut her open. Shot everyone else, quick and neat." His face reflected the epitome of fury. "But not her." He gagged and turned to vomit again. When he recomposed himself, he continued. "They cut her open and made her suffer. The bastards. I'll make them pay, everyone of them. We have knives too. We have knives too!" He yelled this, gripping the seat and trying to stand. His legs gave out and Eren caught him instinctively.

"I think you should sleep." He wasn't sure what to say. He remembered the girl's face, shining and beautiful. Knowing her fate, he was glad he hadn't seen her body that day. Eren tried to push Rivaille to his feet but again he found himself too weak to stand.

"Carry me to my bed." His voice was softer than a whisper, exhausted and burnt out.

Eren slid his arms under Rivaille's frame awkwardly, gripping him around his back and under his knees. He stumbled as he rose and panicked, afraid he'd drop him, but managed to maintain his balance. He was surprisingly heavy.

Putting him down proved just as hard as picking him up. His unnatural weight forced Eren to lean back as he carried him and as he went to lay him in bed, he fell forward and dropped Rivaille a little harder than he'd intended, his hands splaying out on the other side of him. Thinking him asleep, Eren turned to take his seat in the chair, but a hand caught his wrist.

"Eren, stay."

Eren froze in place and looked at Rivaille's vulnerable little figure. Never before had he looked so small. He stood there for a full minute before Rivaille pulled on his wrist again and pointed at the space next to him with his other hand.

"Here."

Stiffly, Eren went around the bed and sat rigid as a board against the mountain of pillows. For whatever reason, Rivaille grabbed his wrist again. He lay there panting loudly.

"Fuck this world." He breathed, clenching Eren's wrist. It wasn't nearly as strong as before when he had so effortlessly dodged a punch and pinned his arm behind his back. "And everyone in it."

"I'm sorry," Eren murmured. He was completely unwilling to move even the slightest bit. Every hair on his body stood up as Rivaille flopped over onto his side, throwing an arm over Eren.

"Tomorrow I have a meeting," he breathed. "You're coming with me. These...these motherfuckers have hell to pay."

Eren stared wide-eyed into the darkness. Every muscle in his body was tense.

"I'll punish them. Every fucking one." Rivaille grabbed a handful of Eren's shirt, his eyes closed.

In that moment, Eren relaxed, though it was not out of relief but realization. Hearing those words, he was reminded of the night his mother died, and how he swore vengeance on drunkards and bootleggers alike. It was like looking in a mirror. Part of him was scared, but the other part of him relaxed because he realized that even worlds apart, he and Rivaille weren't really that different.

  
To his surprise, Mikasa and Armin were both up when he got home. Another guard had filled him in on what time to return in time to be brought to the 'meeting,' so Eren had gone home immediately after his shift anticipating less time to sleep than before. After making sure that Rivaille was really asleep, Eren had managed to crawl out from under him and finish out his guard duty without incident.

"Hey, what's the occasion? Bein' up so late and all."

"This is horrible!" Mikasa got off the couch where she and Armin were huddled together. Her face was red and angry, but her eyes were wet too.

"Woah, woah. What's got you in a lather?" Eren stepped forward to embrace his sister but she pushed him away.

"Every day you're gone for work and we're stuck here tryna stay outta trouble and tryin' not to spend any money because we ain't makin' any of it."

"Eren, I'm sorry." Armin looked up at him from the couch with tears in his eyes.

"Hey, now. I said we got plenty of money so don't you worry, okay? Spend it if you want; I'm not workin' for fun." Eren managed to set a hand on Mikasa's shoulder without her throwing him off but Armin shook his head.

"I think we said it all wrong. Eren, we're bored! We ain't got nothin' to do all day since we don't got work and we don't wanna spend money. We...we went over to Jean's place 'cause he invited us but..." Armin wiped his eyes. "We couldn't help it! He had some coffin varnish** and he was all fried an' he said shit's gone to the dogs so we might as well drink too..."

Mikasa's shoulder dropped under Eren's hand and he gave her a look of accusing disbelief.

"I started it. 'M sorry, Eren, but what the hell are we s'posed to do all day? It isn't fair!" Mikasa was close to yelling. Armin cried silently.

"The hell makes you think that was okay? I don't care how bored you are! Kick a can or somethin'! You can't be out partyin' with dead soldiers like some wino!"

"What the hell do you do all day, huh? 'Cause I'm sure it's better than sittin' around the house feeling sorry for yourself!" Now Mikasa was yelling.

"If you wanna drink up like careless killers, fucking go at it." Eren started off for his room.

"You take that back!" Mikasa had actually stopped yelling, dropping to a low and deadly tone. "She was my mother too." And then the anger in her voice was gone. Eren felt his slip away too. Mikasa ran to Eren and threw her arms around him. Her body shook with heavy sobs. "I'm so sorry." She gripped his shirt. After a moment he put his arms around her too.

"It's alright. I'm just...trying to understand." He rubbed her back.

Armin came up and joined the hug. "Please don't be mad."

"I'm not, I'm not. Why don't you just...hang out with Sasha or something? She got laid off too and you know she's not allowed to have fun. I'll give you some money for the cinema and you can go there. Hell, go wherever you want!" Eren found himself smiling, almost laughing. "Just don't ever feel like you should feel sorry for yourself. I got lucky is all. I need to go to bed." He pulled away from the hug and they all wiped their eyes. Armin followed Eren into their room.

"Say, Armin." Eren stared into the darkness from his bed.

"What is it, Eren?"

"Have you ever...felt strange about other men?" Eren's heartbeat picked up.

"Like how Jean makes everyone around him feel gross?" Armin propped himself up on an elbow.

"Nah. Like when you watch a girl's skirt spin when you dance with her an' you're just full o' wonder."

Armin was silent for a minute. "I guess? Eren it sounds like you kinda like a man."

Eren was glad that it was too dark for Armin to see him blush. "That's not normal, is it?"

"Hell, who gives a damn. The whole economy's gone kaput. Five years ago, everybody was drinkin' so much some fella probably ended up with another fella at some point." Armin's voice faltered a little out of embarrassment.

"How does that even work?" Eren blushed deeper.

"Eh?" Armin fidgeted. "Well, I mean. Y-you just, y'know. Put your donger...uh. You're thinkin' about men and you never figured this out?"

Eren heard Armin swallow from across the room and turned to face the wall.

"N-nevermind. Goodnight!"

Eren touched his behind tentatively.

_Wouldn't that hurt?!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *my flea. French term of endearment.  
> **liquor
> 
> Armin's 'what is it, Eren' moment (okay I had too much fun with that one)  
> Haha, yay! Morbid title! A dead soldier was slang for an empty bottle of liquor but it has merit elsewhere. 
> 
> Widespread electric systems entered commercial service in the East coast around 1923  
> You're free to correct my Italian and French at any time (they're not as grammatically similar to Spanish as I'd hoped)  
> Indoor plumbing (and toilet paper!) became household items in the early 1920s
> 
> I like the idea of Levi being super stoic and whatnot, but even he deserves to break down a little here and there.  
> Poor Jean. He's always the source of mischief.  
> Hehehehe Armin gets so flustered.


	8. Thug Waltz

Everything was a blur of Italian. Only a few sentences in English emerged. Most of the conversation was yelling. Eren stood behind Rivaille, looking down at his gelled hair as he sat at the head of the table. The place was a restaurant Eren had never heard of, incredibly fancy, yet completely empty. Eren imagined it was meant to be so.

The room was filled with sharp-looking Italians, dressed to the nines with narrow eyes and angry faces. Rivaille, having made a miraculous recovery, fit right in, yelling across the table in Italian with the best of them. When if got out of control, he yelled something that made them all pipe down.

"Now fellas, you know why I called you here." He spoke in his gruff boss-voice, a heavy Boston accent coming through. "Some bastard's gone and called me out, shit on my operations. Or at least he tried to. Couldn't get close, couldee? So what's the fucker decides to do?" Rivaille sneered and spit on the floor. Eren flinched. "Fucker made a target outta me. 'Cept 'e couldn't do that neither! So 'e took my Petra an' cut her up like Chrismas ham."

A ripple of unrest came in murmurs across the table.

"Level with me, fellas. You know what we's dealin' with. A whole damned week and nobody don't know from nothin'. Find me this sonnova bitch."

"Hey, hey, hey. You might be the cat's meow around here, but you knows we gots our own shit to deal with. Ain't no reason for us to be buryin' our own noses, hear?" The man who spoke sat across the table on the farthest end, and was the only other person aside from Rivaille with a bodyguard.

"Can it. You owe me more than a chunk of mazuma.* Do this for me and I'll call it off."

"Yeah? What about the rest of us, huh?" Another man spoke up. "We don't owe nothing to nobody."

Rivaille laughed. "You act like your operations are still up 'n' runnin'. Everyone knows mine's the only one that ain't crashin' with the stock market. You help, you get paid. Simple."

"Dammit, count me in." A different man from the other two. Eren was glad to understand everything. Italian, he concluded, was for arguing; English for business.

"I mean, poor ol' Joe. His best men dead and all he's got left is that little pup."

With a start Eren realized the man meant him.

"Haha, yeah, he's no guard dog. Whacha keepin' this one for? Lap dog?"

The men laughed and Rivaille stood so quickly that the back of his chair hit Eren in the stomach, making the men laugh harder. Out of nowhere, a knife implanted itself in a pillar just behind the man to make the first jeer. A thin red line appeared on his cheek and a trickle of blood started down his face. A second knife embedded itself in the table just in front of Rivaille with such a sound that the entire group stopped laughing.

"This one's for trainin', see? 'Til then I can take care of myself. You fellas want more motivation than bein' debt-free, bein' in good with the only asshole still runnin' an operation? Put your damned life on the list. You bring me the hack-jobs that cut up my Petra and I won't use any of you for target practice. Any fella that handles a knife that poorly outta be shown how to do it right the hard way."

The room was silent for a moment as Rivaille pulled his blade out of the wood and slipped it back inside his jacket. All at once, the men stood and started cheering.

"Haha, you sure are a man's man. Got guts, I'll give ya that!" The man he'd cut laughed and wiped his cheek.

"Bring me that bastard and we'll see if he gots any guts like me!"

They laughed themselves out the door.

***

  
"Eren."

He stiffened at his name. Looking over, he saw Rivaille the gentleman sitting relaxed and cross-legged in Rivaille the mob-boss's clothes. He hadn't changed from their meeting earlier, which surprised Eren.

Given the time, he was also surprised that Rivaille wasn't heading to bed yet, since the previous nights he'd gone to bed right around the time Eren finished training. He wasn't terribly happy about having to train after the meeting, but given that it hadn't been particularly physically taxing, he obliged without protest.

Without word or expression, Rivaille motioned Eren to his side with a single finger, peering over his half-moon reading glasses. He grabbed Eren's chin and brought it close to his face for examination.

"Who did this to your mouth?" He thumbed the busted lip Eren had gotten yesterday. It had gotten worse.

"I, uh. It was a training accident, sir." Eren replied, stiffly accenting the word 'sir'.

"Does it hurt?" Still no expression.

In all honesty, it did. Eren couldn't eat out of that side of his mouth and it split open again whenever he smiled. Mikasa had noticed it when Eren got up to go to work and had fussed over the thought of his job being too harsh on him. He hadn't exactly told them everything that the job entailed.

"Not really." Eren thought about pulling away from the hand. But to his surprise, it let go.

"Good. I suppose you've been thinking about your first night on duty, hm?"

Eren tried not to react, but he felt his face getting hotter. "Not really." He echoed. So he  _did_ remember.

Rivaille scoffed and set his paper and glasses down. Wordlessly he got up and walked across the room and began thumbing through some records. When he had found the one he was looking for, he set it on the phonogram and held the needle above it, watching it spin aimlessly.

"Can you waltz?" He continued to watch the record spin.

"I..." Yes. Eren's mother had loved the waltz. Every kind, she said, German, French, Russian--all of them. Without his father around to dance with her, she would swing Eren about, holding him close to her hips, his little feet on hers as she moved. It was one of his favorite memories with his mother and they had continued to dance until she died. By then, Eren was twelve and could dance with her on his own. Mikasa and even Armin had come to join in on the fun. Just thinking about it, Eren could feel the pulse in his feet.

 **One** -two-three, **one** -two-three, **one** -two-three, **one** -two-three.

Rivaille dropped the needle and the music started. Calmly, he strode over to Eren, his shoes clicking in time. Once again Eren found himself facing an extended hand. He took it.  
  
Rivaille's face lit up with amusement as Eren took the lead. Embarrassed, Eren closed his eyes and let himself drift off with the dance.

"You quite like waltz, I see. And you're very good at it too." Rivaille noted after a few minutes. Eren opened his eyes. The song ended and the two just stood there, unnaturally close. The next one began but neither man moved. Rivaille reached out and grabbed Eren's face again, delicately this time.

"You were smiling. Your lip is bleeding now." He ran his thumb under Eren's busted lip and examined his bloody fingertip.

"Oh." Eren touched his lip, unable to look away from Rivaille. A tiny voice in his head told him they were standing too close, that he should move away because men shouldn't dance with one another. But Rivaille's scent, his very aura, held Eren in place. He smelled like fine cigars, but also faintly feminine, like perfume. All he could think about was finding the source of the scent. He swallowed his desire like a dry pill.

"My mother used to dance the waltz with me," he murmured, stepping away.

"Used to?" Eren thought he saw Rivaille take the tiniest step closer.

"She's dead. Ran over by some drunk when I was twelve." Eren turned away. "I hate them."

"We've all got issues."

Eren wasn't sure what he'd expected as a reply, but it wasn't that. He turned back to Rivaille and his breath caught in his throat. Under the man's gaze, he could think of only one thing. He stepped forward, almost amazed he could keep his balance and simply looked down. Every fiber of his being wanted him to close the gap between them, to feel those soft lips again, but several things stopped him. They were both men, Rivaille was his boss, and the man was a criminal.

"You're fun to watch." Rivaille mused after several minutes of nothing happening.

"I'm sorry. This isn't appropriate."

"I suppose I understand your confusion. How old are you?"

"Uh, nineteen? Why?"

"Age says things about a man. When I was your age, I was on my way back from the war."

"You fought in the war? For our nation? And you came back to...to...?"

"Be a criminal? Yes, I suppose. But there are more ways than dying for your country or arresting drunks to serve it. Legal or otherwise."

"I just didn't expect..."

"There are very few things one can expect with certainty." Rivaille walked over to his bed and lit a cigar. "Ten years ago, fresh off that boat having seen only a small part of the hell my family in France saw the entire duration of the war, I never would've expected the stock market to fall to pieces like this. You met Hanji. She was quiet and full of hatred in France. I brought her here because I knew she was miserable, even if she could practice her medicine. Amputees, traumatized soldiers--everything. They made her miserable. Here she works as my doctor, my informant, and she gets to bounce around calling my inherited bretheren raviolis. War is not something to be taken lightly."

Eren's mouth hung open slightly. Rivaille's large life seemed like nothing all of a sudden. He had seen hell, even if the American presence was brief in the war. And Hanji, Hanji had lived it. Eren hated his life, the cruelty of his father leaving, his mother dying, working hard and then just being dropped to nothing because no one could afford to pay him.

"I never realized." Eren managed to shut his mouth. His blood still boiled with adrenaline, still holding onto the feeling of being close to Rivaille.

"Of course you didn't. You're a child."

"I am not!" Eren's blood began boiling for other reasons.

Having taken off his shoes and set his cigar in an ashtray on the nightstand, Rivaille rose from the bed soundlessly and moved fluidly back into Eren's face.

"Prove it."

Eren's heart skipped a beat. He faltered for a moment and then moved and did the only thing he could think of. He grabbed the back of Rivaille's head and guided his face to his own, the two making daring contact at the mouth.

Lights exploded in his head. The taste of the cigar prompted Eren to move his mouth, clumsily, yet with purpose and to his delight, Rivaille responded in turn. The man's hair was so soft under his fingers, even with the gel, the fuzz of his undercut giving texture under his palm. The kiss was over before it started, Rivaille pushing him away with two fingers against Eren's solar plexis. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

"I will not have you doing that with that obscenity on your mouth." He strode off toward his bathroom to bathe and change. "It's time I went to bed. Goodnight, Eren."

Eren stared after him, his heart pounding.

_Oh my god I like a man._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *money  
> What is this chapter title I don't even. PSHHHHHHHH
> 
> BIRTHDAY POSTTTTTTTTT!
> 
> I literally amped myself with adrenaline writing the last scene omg it's intense. Once more I had some of this in a different order and it sucked until I rearranged it and yayyyyy!  
> Heads up it may be about a week until I update since I'm working on college stuff and I'm kinda doing some AUs from tumblr requests. 
> 
> If you somehow wandered over here without the aid of tumblr, you're free to follow me at TheModernChromatic, where you'll get all the freshest fresh on this here nugget. 
> 
> You're all beautiful and amazing! Keep on keepin' on, guys. Comments and kudos appreciated! Love you,  
> ~Cass~


	9. Opening Pandora's Box

A week passed with nothing eventful happening. Armin came down with a pretty bad cold, but with Mikasa at his side constantly and Eren making enough money to get medicine, it passed fairly quickly. Eren felt a tug at his heart thinking that he hadn't really been there for Armin, but he assured him that by working he did more than enough.

Most nights, Rivaille went to bed early like before, easing into his sleep with the help of Hanji's medication, and Eren found his work to be an easy job. Listening to his slow, soft breathing from across the room was becoming something of a guilty pleasure, although he shared this thought with no one. Aside from his conversation with Armin and his strange interactions with his boss, Eren wasn't totally willing to talk about his feelings; he'd barely just admitted them to himself.

  
"Jaeger."

It was a night in which Rivaille had presumably not taken his medicine and as a result was awake, reading again. Eren noted that he read just about everything. He thought it was a bit strange for Rivaille to call him by his last name but rose dutifully nonetheless. Rivaille set down his book and reading glasses and stood up to brush himself off. When he was finished, he looked up and charged full-speed at Eren.

"The hell?" Eren barely had time to move out of the way as Rivaille swung a fist at him. Their forearms met at Rivaille went for another blow and the two struggled a bit before Eren realized that the entire situation closely mimicked one of his training manuevers. Despite an obvious height disadvantage, Rivaille quickly took the upperhand of the fight. Eren managed to avoid getting hit with anything painful, but he couldn't deny that he was losing. They came to something of a draw with grips on one another's shirts, both held at arm's length trying to knock the other down.

"A little warning next time would be nice," Eren panted, grinning.

"Will my enemies warn you when they decide to try and kill me?" Rivaille's breathing was also labored.

Eren pulled down on his grips to knock Rivaille out of equilibrium and swept in to take one of his feet out like he'd been taught. As he did so, Rivaille leaned forward and the two crashed to the ground. Eren landed on his back with Rivaille on top, the wind knocked out of him.

"Christ, you're heavy," he wheezed.

Rivaille laughed a genuine, amused laugh like Eren had never heard before, completely different from his half-hearted chuckles and brief laughter brought on by his determining others to be of low intellect. After a moment, Eren regained his breath and began to laugh too, the two of them on the ground together, laughing like madmen.

"You're an idiot." Rivaille brushed a strand of hair out of his face only for it to fall back where it was.  
  
"I'm an idiot? You're insane!" Eren continued laughing with him until the two of them were laughed out and Eren became all-too-aware of Rivaille's body against his own.

"Your training certainly shows," Rivaille noted. His heart beat and an increasingly slower rate as he relaxed, still very much on top of Eren. Eren squirmed.

"Yes, well, a couple weeks with the Italians is bound to do that." He laughed nervously and tried to prop himself up on his elbows so he could get out from under Rivaille, but inadvertently brought their face much closer than he'd intended to.

"Your lip healed." Rivaille looked down at Eren's mouth, his face a blank slate.

"Y-yeah." His voice cracked.

Rivaille chuckled and closed the space between them. Eren relaxed back into the floor, tasting the slightest hint of sweat on Rivaille's bottom lip. Without thinking, he ran the tip of his tongue across the smooth surface and Rivaille's mouth opened into his like Pandora's box. Eren's breath caught in his throat as their tongues met, timidly exploring one another. Eren pushed lightly and Rivaille's tongue retreated into his mouth. As Eren moved forward, Rivaille bit down sharply but quickly, causing Eren to jerk back. It stung, but wasn't bleeding. The kiss ended as Eren closed his mouth to examine his tongue.

Uncomfortable enough as it was, Eren tried to get up again, assuming he'd overstepped his boundaries again and that Rivaille would just go to bed like before. Rivaille's mouth on his neck made him lose that train of thought in a second.

"I never said I was done with you, brat." He half-whispered and half-growled from Eren's jaw. His breath, his scent, the vibrations from his lips into Eren's skin was too much for him. He ambled sideways, trying to spare Rivaille's thigh of his secret. Rivaille's knee moved and trapped Eren's leg as it tried to escape. Ensuring that Eren was no longer moving, Rivaille set his knee down between Eren's legs, his thigh exerting pressure on Eren's pelvis. As he moved again, Eren assumed Rivaille had noticed what he'd been so desperately trying to hide.

"I-I'm sorr--" But his voice caught as the pressure turned into friction. Eren shuddered and the second half of his word came out as "Ahhh" rather than 'y'.

Taking that as clearance, Rivaille undid a few buttons on Eren's shirt and exposed his chest, his mouth moving down the skin in rhythm with Eren's panting. His hands explored and as his fingers found a nipple, Eren jolted with such force that he actively pushed Rivaille away from him.

"Stop, stop, stop, please." He winced and covered himself instinctively. Rivaille rolled off Eren and sat up

"No, it's my fault. I got carried away." His face went blank again and he turned away, pulling a ciagarette out of his jacket pocket. Eren sat up so fast lights flashed in his head.

"No, I--" He grabbed Rivaille's shoulder and froze under his gaze. "That's not... that's not what I meant," he finally managed. With Rivaille's undivided, scrutinizing attention, Eren felt regret, as if he had hurt him somehow. His face felt heavy as he continued to droop under Rivaille's blank gaze that somehow held a thousand emotions, all at once. After more than enough, Eren closed his eyes and let go of Rivaille's shoulder, turning away and dropping his head. A little laughed worked its way up from inside his chest, like a little bubble until he finally let it out.

"I'm scared." He gathered the courage to look at Rivaille, who simply cocked his head.

"That's it?"

"Yeah."

Rivaille huffed something that could've been a sigh of relief and lay back on the wood floor. He shut his eyes and Eren took the opportunity to adjust himself, having come up at an awkward angle. At the very least, he was relaxing. Eren lay on the floor as well, his hand barely brushing Rivaille's. At the contact, Rivaille's hand moved seemingly on it's own into Eren's, a perfect fit. The two were silent for awhile.

"Is this wrong?" Eren felt a lump forming in his throat. So much of him wanted that moment, the moment of just being and having someone to be with. The warmth of a hand in his, the soft sound of his breathing, and the lightest gradient of his scent wafting over to Eren's nose.

"Wrong. Ugly. Immoral. Illegal. The problem with words like that is that they're all perspective. Do you think it's wrong, Eren?"

The question made his eyes water. He didn't have an answer to it. His world was one of right or wrong, good or bad, black or white. There was no inbetween. Everything he'd ever known had been something of certainty, at least anything of merit. His mother's death was no grey area. Losing his job certainly wasn't. Being there in that moment wasn't either. He was there, not halfway inbetween. And yet, he could see no clear answer. To his surprise, tears rolled down his face out of the corners of his eyes.

"I don't know." His voice broke and Rivaille's head turned to look at him. He tried to wipe his face with his free hand, but not in time. Rivaille's hand withdrew from his and went under his head to support it as he posed on his elbow. His other hand went to Eren's face, lightly caressing his cheek with the thumb. When the tears did not cease, Rivaille took Eren's head into his arms and ran his fingers through Eren's hair until he was certain he was no longer crying.

"Everything's so confusing." Eren murmured from Rivaille's chest.

"I know. I'm sorry."

"Don't be. It's not your fault."

"No really, I'm sorry."

"Hey, I said--"

"No, I mean this floor's really goddamned uncomfortable." Rivaille let go and went to his bed. Eren watched the swish of his trousers, pinstriped again, around the backs of his thighs. He sat on the edge and motioned for Eren to join him.

"Have you ever been involved with a woman?" Rivaille asked as Eren sat down.

"Well, not really. I mean, I fancied a few in high school, but even the ones that liked me never held my interest for long."

"Do anything physical?" Rivaille examined him with a calculating, yet still blank face.

"I kissed a few of them, yeah, but nothing major. I never really felt I wanted anything more."

Rivaille was silent for a moment.

"I had a fiancee before the war." He pulled off his shoes and set them neatly beside the bed. "It was really more of a political arrangement than anything. I've been with Petra's family for my entire life. She had an older brother. My age, actually. He was supposed to take over the family business. But when he was born, his mother couldn't produce any milk and his father refused to give him anything but the mother's milk so my mother was hired on as his wetnurse.

"I grew up with him. Antonio. To settle a dispute between his father's mafia and another Italian gang, he was engaged to a daughter of their boss. But someone somewhere double-crossed him and they killed him. No one actually knew who to pin the blame on; we of course thought it was one of them but they thought it an insult to their family, an inside job. So I volunteered to take his place. She was wonderfully sweet, but I never loved her. Being away in the war, she told me, made me a different man. Or at least that was her excuse. Her polite refusal somehow made amends between our groups. They were actually one of the biggest presences at that meeting. Anyway, from then on, I was considered to be something of a son to this family. I think in all honesty, Don Carlo, Petra's father, wanted me to marry her, but I never saw her as anything more than a little sister.

"Her mother was devastated at Antonio's death and died soon after. Then, in 1921, there was an anonymous hit on Don Carlo and the mafia was left in chaos with no successor. Somehow, I ended up stepping up to keep things from turning into an all-out gang war. I'd seen war overseas. I didn't want it in my home.

"So you see, Eren, serving your country, your people means a lot more than obeying the law. Even chaos needs order, yet what would order be without chaos?"

"I'm confused."

"In more than one way, I know." He swung his legs around behind Eren and lay back against his mountain of pillows. He stared up at Eren with his hands behind his head. Seeing the empty space beside him, Eren slowly copied his motions and lay back against the pillows.

"This world is shit." Rivaille scooted down so his head lay on one pillow alone.

"No one's arguing that."

"And yet, even the strangest things are like rays of light." Rivaille turned on his side and opened his arms. Eren moved down so he could regain their position from earlier. With his head in Rivaille's arms, Eren felt comfortable enough to wrap his arms around Rivaille's body, drawing him close. He closed his eyes and let the slow beating of Rivaille's heart lull him.

"Don't let me force you into anything."

Eren marvelled at the way Rivaille's voice sounded when he could hear the vibrations of his voice coming straight from his chest.

"You're not forcing me."

"Good." Rivaille pushed him away with such force Eren nearly fell off the bed. "Now get back to work. You're still on the job, you know."

***

"Armin?" Eren had turned on the light in their room for a fraction of a second so he could visualize a clear path to his bed (given his half of the room was a nightmare to navigate in the dark) and had only glanced over at Armin and known instantly he was unwell. "What's wrong? Is your cold coming back?" Eren walked over to Armin's shaking body cautiously.

"My s-stomach." Armin curled over himself. Eren touched Armin's cheek and withdrew his hand instantly. He was burning up.

"Mikasa!" Eren yelled, not caring that he could get in trouble with the landlord for yelling at this time of night. He went for the door, but Mikasa opened it before he could even grab the handle.

"What is it?" She looked panicked and sleep-deprived.

"I don't know. Something's pretty wrong with Armin."

Mikasa pushed him aside and knelt next to Armin's bed. He did nothing more than groan.

"Eren, we need to take him to a doctor. This isn't stomach-sick."

"Yeah, I know. He's more white than green." Eren scooped up Armin into his arms, his face contorting in apology as Armin groaned.

  
The doctor walked out with his clipboard in hand.

"He'll need to go in for surgery soon."

"Surgery? What the hell for?"

"Your friend has apendicitis. We need to remove the apendix before it ruptures and releases toxins."

Eren rubbed the back of his neck. Surgeries were expensive. "How long until then?"

"Could be a day, could be a month. It's hard to tell. The longer you wait, though, the worse it'll get. I warn you, if it ruptures and he isn't treated in time, the mortality rate is high."

Mikasa pulled Eren away from his conversation with the doctor.

"I know it's expensive. But he's telling us we can't wait." She looked at him with pleading eyes.

"I just need a little more money until we can afford it. If we could just wait a little bit..."

"Eren!" She hit his arm. "You can't gamble with other people's lives."

He ignored Mikasa and went back to the doctor.

"What can you do for him now?"

"Now? The best I could do is give him some medicine for the pain and something that might reduce the inflammation, but as I said, waiting is not the best option."

I'm sorry, Armin.

"Do that for now. We'll get him in as soon as we can."

  
At home, Mikasa refused to speak to Eren. Having gotten some medicine from the doctor, Armin was feeling better and was the only one talking.

"This is bad." He sounded almost embarrassed to be in his situation.

When no one said anything, he peered around the room from the couch, trying to pierce the silence with something. Eren went over and picked up Armin to save him from walking.

"I'm going to bed." He told him. "I have to work tomorrow."

In their room, the two lay silently, unable to fall asleep. Eren listened to Armin's stressed breathing and wished he could do something.

"Armin, I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I know how hard it is for you."

Armin's optimism sickened him. "I should've at least asked you. I just kept thinking 'what if we can't pay rent,' 'what if we can't buy food?' Y'know, stuff like that."

"I know. Eren, we're very lucky to have you. Without you, Mikasa and I wouldn't have any money right now. So even if it's just a little, it's good. I think she's more mad that she can't do anything. She's not making money and now you won't even let her help you make decisions. Both of us feel pretty useless."

"Hey, don't feel like that. It was just...luck I guess." Eren gathered his thoughts for a moment. "You remember what we talked about the other night?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you think it's wrong? Or that it's just temporary?"

"Eren." Armin tried to shift in his bed to face his friend, but stopped when his stomach pained him. "I think you're worrying about it too much. If you look at history, there are countless stories of men with men and women with women. Alexander the Great had a male lover. Hell, there was an entire army of men with their lovers. They were specifically recruited within Rome because they believed that fighting to protect someone you love was the most noble cause, and being right there with them on the battlefield made them fight harder than anyone else. That army actually conquered a whole lot of things."

Eren balled up his hands and let them relax nervously. "You're not answering my questions."

"No, Eren, I don't think it's wrong. Love is love, and true love is not temporary." He sighed. "Are you in love with a man?"

"I--" Eren felt his heart skip a beat. "Maybe."

"And how does he feel about you?"

"Maybe?" Eren couldn't offer any more than that.

Armin sighed. "Eren, I'm going to tell you this as your friend. People might not be so fond of an idea like that. Really, it's not a problem in my eyes. I just want you to be careful. A lot of people hate a lot of things. Love who you love, but be careful who knows with stuff like this."

"Thank you."

"What for?"

"You're not useless, Armin. You and Mikasa are the reasons I go to work every day. Without you, I'd be so lost. Especially right now."

Armin was mildly confused but he smiled anyway.

"Goodnight, Eren."

"Goodnight, Armin."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Deus ex machina, that's what because I didn't want to fill in another chapter waiting for Eren's lip to heal and really did you want to wait for the thing? No, me either. 
> 
> I said I was going to give Armin some love but oops I think I did it wrong maybe.  
> The whole thing was pretty fun to write. I kinda like to move faster through Eren's home scenes because he's so much less alert at home, especially at three in the morning after work.  
> Dancing and fighting are some of my favorite things to write since I'm horribly uncoordinated and spend a lot of time thinking about my movements when I do them (karate, hells yeah).


	10. Down to Business

Worry wasn't really something Eren was acquainted with. Even with Armin at home, suffering immensely, Eren did not feel worry so much as he felt guilt. Guilt, on the other hand, was an old crone of an unwelcome friend. It sat on his shoulders and weighed him down, pressing his spine and occupying his mind. Yet work was all Eren felt he could do for Armin. He had to get money so he could pay for the surgery; it was all he could do. He told himself this over and over, but the guilt stayed with him, sitting on his shoulders while he worked.

Eren made it three days before Rivaille noticed something was wrong with him. He'd hoped he'd go unnoticed, biding his time until he could pay for Armin's surgery, a week and a half at his current salary. He could do it in a week, but for utilities and groceries. Even so, Mikasa and Eren had taken to eating less in hopes of saving money.

As a result, Eren found himself trailing behind Rivaille as he strode through warehouse after warehouse. Once he had noticed Eren's change in behavior, he had offered him extra jobs during the day, ensuring him that he shouldn't have to worry for his friend's health, even if the world was hell and money was a rare sight.

It was a fairly easy job. Rivaille was driven from place to place, exchanged a quick few words with some gruff-looking men--usually in Italian--and then they headed to the next job. The suit and hat Eren was lent to look presentable bothered him, too tight and too new. He wondered if his discomfort showed through his attempted outward aggression, trying to look less like a 'lap dog'.

As Rivaille approached the fourth or fifth warehouse of the day, a man standing by the door waved some sort of signal and Rivaille pressed Eren back against their parked car, shoving a cigar into his hand. He took one and brought it to his own lips, lighting his and the one Eren scarcely had a grip on simultaneously.

"Act natural." He ordered, tipping the brim of his hat to cover his eyes.

Eren brought the cigar to his lips and watched as a shipping truck pulled up to the warehouse and the driver got out into the waning light of the evening. Eren made sure to angle his chin down as if to appear to be talking to Rivaille instead of watching the situation.

The driver approached the man who had signaled Rivaille and the two chatted for a moment before the first man promptly hit the driver of the truck over the back of the head. The man slumped to the ground, unconscious. Eren flinched.

"All done?" Rivaille turned and started toward the warehouse.

Another man came in from inside the warehouse and got behind the wheel of the truck. A strange smell came from the cargo.

"'Ey, Slim Finn, you sure's hell took your time takin' care of that one, huh?" Rivaille stuffed one hand in his pocket and extended the other for Slim Finn to shake.

Slim Finn raised and eyebrow and pulled out a rag to shine the bat he'd used to hit the man, who, fortunately, was not bleeding. Two more mend came from in the warehouse and carried the unconscious man inside.

"He was a nice guy, a'right? Real chattabox. I didn't wanna, but y'know. Business. Go check ya wares if you wants." Slim Finn shrugged and set his bat down, heading toward the back of the truck.

Eren and Rivaille followed. Once the truck was open, Eren peered inside, trying to determine the source of the smell.

"Ice?" He craned his neck.

"Lobster." Slim Finn answered with a chuckle. "He new?"

Rivaille rolled his eyes. "He's got moxxy. Just not too bright, y'know."

Eren tried not to take offense.

"Lobster's pretty valuable, y'know kid? You take a truck like this, eitha ya pay the fella or ya use some other method a' gettin' your way, then you take the truck and sell what ya get. Legal wares can sell too." He turned back to Rivaille. "I did have t'use force for this one, boss. How's about a little extra?"

"Thirty."

"How's about thirty-five."

"How's about I find some other idiot to hit guys over th' back of th' head, starting with you? Thirty, capice?"

"Fine, fine." He put up his hands and Rivaille fished out a couple bills and handed them to him. Both men dipped their hats and Rivaille started back for the car.

When they were out of earshot, Rivaille told Eren, "That whole truckload's worth about three-hundred or so. I give him ten percent so he stays honest. Anything over my value, ten times what I give him, he can keep. Makes them work hard."

They crawled in the car and for awhile, everything was quiet.

"Thank you." Eren said after a while.

"For what?"

"Giving me these extra jobs. It means a lot."

Rivaille gave him a looke he couldn't quite read. "You make it seem as if criminals are inhuman creatures who won't even help out their own out of self-interest."

"What? That's not what I meant at all I just...I'm really grateful," Eren stammered.

"I'm only joking. But I mean it. Even though you're my worker, I'm still going to help you when I need it. Mob bosses don't have to be heartless." He chuckled. "Well, we do, but only when necessary."

***

When the car arrived at the mansion again, Eren stretched as he got out, accidentally untucking his shirt and exposing a bit of his midsection. He tucked it back in quickly, wondering for the nth time why the waistband only sat at his hips rather than at his waist like Rivaille's suits, but he didn't question it. Everything he borrowed was either a little too small or too large. Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw Rivaille watching him scramble as he tried to tuck his shirt in again.

"Eren, would you follow me with that briefcase?"

Eren nodded, retrieved the item from the trunk of the car, then scurried after Rivaille as he headed inside. To his surprise, he found himself heading towards Rivaille's room.

"It needs to go in my safe. I ordered some new knives, you see. I caught wind of someone who knows something about the fellas at the dance hall the other night."

As they entered his room, Eren found himself somewhat unable to speak.

"You can set it on the bed."

He obeyed and Rivaille came around behind him, then opened the briefcase. As he had said, they were indeed knives, though not anything ordinary. Most of them were hilt-less throwing knives, meant to be tucked away as quick, secretive defenses, but the remaining few were long and wicked, some curving in strange ways. Rivaille picked up one of particular mass, a triangular prism of a blade.

"Always my favorite. These have been used since before the Civil War. Triangular wounds can't simply be sewn closed. They're brillant." His eyes glittered as he set it down and closed the case, then carried it to his closet. Eren stood rooted to his spot by the bed.

"You can have the night off if you wish."

Eren was spacing out and Rivaille could see, yet it wasn't Armin on his mind.

"In fact," Rivaille continued, "I'd like you to. I have more business early in the morning that you'll be useful in. It's a tad higher-risk than usual so I'm willing to pay enough to make up for not working tonight."

"Thanks." Eren finally found a word, trying to stop his head from spinning. He turned to leave but something stopped him. "Hey, Rivaille," he stumbled over the pronunciation. "I'd kinda like to stay."

"Well, you're welcome to. But like I said, tomorrow will pay more and you'll want to be well-rested."

Eren was at a loss for words. He knew what was bothering him, why he didn't want to leave, yet he had no idea how to express it.

"N-not on the job." Was all he managed.

Rivaille raised an eybrow.

"What then?"

"Just...stay."

"Why?" He was prompting Eren now, seeing how willing he was to admit his feelings, and Eren knew it.

"With you."

Rivaille didn't answer. He walked away from his bed and set a record on.

"Dance with me before you go."

It was neither waltz nor swing; Rivaille's motions hardly had any steps to them at all and Eren simply followed. The two swayed in time.

"I want to stay." Eren insisted, though softly, his strength sapped by their proximity.

"You're afraid."

Eren thought for a moment. "Maybe I was. But these days my fear is for Armin. I can't let myself be afraid for a moment. I have to be strong for him. He has to last until the surgery can be paid for."

"Then you should go and be with him."

"By now he's asleep. Mikasa's with him. I care, believe me, but I can't stand that atmosphere. I'd rather be here with you." He felt his cheeks get hot. He wondered if what he was saying even made sense.

Rivaille held him at arms'-length.

"I don't think you realize the possible consequences of staying here."

"I stay here all the time."

"Paid. On the job. Consigned to a task."

"Just let me stay." Eren tried to move closer.

"Eren, y--" But Eren wouldn't stand to hear any more of what Rivaille was trying to persuade him to do and silenced him with his own method of persuasion. Rivaille made no effort to break the kiss and it grew deeper. Eren stepped closer and wove his fingers into Rivaille's hair, trying to breathe him in entirely. Rivaille pushed Eren away.

"You don't know what you're getting into."

Eren used his hand strategically in Rivaille's hair to pull him back into a kiss. The record spun on, the music soft and slow. The two began to move opposite the atmosphere of the music. Somewhat forcefully, Rivaille guided Eren towards the bed and pushed him down onto his back. His lips abandoned their post on Eren's and made their way down his neck, his nimble fingers undoing buttons as he moved down. His thigh slid between Eren's again as he continued pushing him down onto the bed, his knees sinking in. His hands started to explore Eren's body for the second time, but stopped short of reaching skin.

"Are you sure you're alright with this? Have you made up your mind about anything being wrong?" He was breathing faster than normal, both of their heartrates elevated.

"I don't care about right or wrong anymore, dammit. All I want is you, and nothing else matters."

Rivaille closed his eyes and smiled, then turned and sat beside Eren on the bed.

"Hey," Eren started, but Rivaille pushed him backwards.

"Stay there." He took off his shoes and set them neatly on the ground and then got on the ground himself, grabbing ahold of Eren's feet dangling off the bed. Similarly, he removed Eren's shoes and socks, his hands working over the soft, exposed skin of his feet.

"Stop, that tickles!" Eren kicked his feet lightly, but Rivaille's hands were already making their way up one of Eren's calves, his nose nuzzling the path paved by his hands. As they snaked up his thigh, Eren sat up a little more, aware and somewhat afraid. To his relief, his hands bypassed his groin and settled on Eren's hips. Rivaille looked up from nuzzling Eren's thigh and motioned for him to scoot back on the bed. With the two of them fully on the mattress, Rivaille's hands brushed along Eren's stomach as they went for the buttons on his pants.

The buttons came undone and the zipper went down, but Rivaille's hands moved instead towards the buttons of Eren's shirt again. As he opened the button-up, his hands slid the undershirt upward, and again his mouth followed his hands, kissing and nipping at the skin he exposed. When he reached Eren's solar plexis and the shirt would go up no more, he went back to Eren's mouth.

"Take them off," he breathed, and Eren could do nothing but obey.

Not wanting to feel so exposed alone, Eren pulled Rivaille into another kiss then pushed him back, clumsily groping at the buttons on his shirt. With a small laugh against Eren's mouth, Rivaille began undoing his own buttons from the bottom, Eren's hands working at the top. Their hands met in the middle and for a brief moment they broke away from one another, their hands woven together.

Eren's ravenous hunger resurfaced and he threw Rivaille's shirt down over his shoulders, Rivaille responsively shrugging it off so that the two embraced bare-chested. With Eren pinned to the bed, Rivaille trailed his kisses down Eren's neck and tentatively moved to a nipple, touching it lightly at first so that Eren's breath caught again, and then increasing intensity, biting and sucking. Eren panted accordingly. Rivaille's palm came to meet Eren's groin, the heel digging into the ridge it found there.

This time as the hand went around his waist, it did not stop at his hips or move away on some distracting whim. Rivaille's fingers dove into Eren's drawers, encircling him and pulling softly. Eren gasped at the contact and Rivaille abandoned the nipple. He moved further down, withdrew his hand and once again palmed the warm ridge now rather close to his face. Eren arched into the bed and Rivaille took the opportunity to pull his pants down over his hips, exposing just to the base of Eren's shaft.

Eren's heart fluttered as Rivaille placed his lips on the tip, parting them softly and taking the head into his mouth. Nerves. Excitement. Fear. Pleasure. His mouth shaped a silent moan as Rivaille took Eren deeper into his mouth. Eren gripped the covers, resisting the urge to buck into the moist heat. He dug his heels into the mattress and panted, pressing his hips upward as Rivaille bobbed his head up and down.

"G-god," Eren gasped, setting a hand on the back of Rivaille's head, yet he retreated, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. He looked up at Eren coldly serious.

"If you're going to cry out, it better be loud. But you're not to touch my head. I'm still the boss around here."

Eren's hand withdrew and Rivaille's lips parted again, this time going down with a new vigor. Eren bit into his lip and clasped a hand over his mouth, feeling his cheeks growing hotter as the roof of Rivaille's mouth rubbed down on his tip, his climax nearing. He gave a soft 'guh.'

"I'm about to..." He squeezed his eyes tight but the blinding relief never came. Rivaille sat back, grinning wickedly.

"Did I say you could finish yet? I don't think I did. And didn't I tell you I want you _loud_?" He swept in for a fiery kiss that ended with him biting Eren hard enough to make him yelp. Angry, Eren tried to return the favor, but Rivaille turned his head so that Eren's lips met his jawline and he decided to get his revenge another way.

Copying Rivaille's movements, Eren kissed down his body and landed on a nipple, trying to mimic the intense teasing he had done. Rivaille's breathing grew deeper, but almost in a relaxed way, not at all in the way Eren's breath had changed. Dissatisfied, Eren moved down between his legs and started at the buttons on Rivaille's high-waisted trousers, but a hand came down and inhibited his undoings. Eren looked up, a bit confused and still uncomfortably hard.

"Are you sure you want to do this? You can still go home. Sex isn't quite as easy to brush off as it seems." Rivaille was giving Eren one of his stony looks that said so much yet so little.

"Yeah, I'm sure."

The hand released and Eren undid the buttons to Rivaille's trousers, mouthing at the thin line of hair under the navel as he made his way down. Rivaille lifted his hips as Eren tugged on the waist of his pants, pulling them down so that the drawers came down with them and his erection sprung lightly into open space. Taking a deep breath, Eren took it clumsily into his mouth and started the up and down motion that had driven him crazy earlier. Rivaille's body shook, but not in the way Eren's had, quivering as he teetered on the edge. Eren looked up to find him chuckling.

"You take a deep breath like you're about to take a swim and then you bob your head like a chicken," he mused. Eren tried to pull back but Rivaille's hand on the back of his head stopped him. "Use a little suction and start slower."

Eren obeyed and Rivaille dug his fingers into Eren's hair, moving slowly backward until he sat upright against the pillows. Eren kept at his task, egged on by the occasional shuddering breath from Rivaille and didn't notice that he'd grabbed something from a drawer in the nightstand.

"Okay, just try to relax."

Eren lost mobility as Rivaille leaned forward, his elbow suddenly on Eren's back. Two fingers pressed against his body and naturally he tensed up, trapping the fingertips before they even got inside.

"I told you to relax," Rivaille growled. Eren took his mouth off and Rivaille pushed him over onto his back again. He came down on top of Eren, their mouths meeting in an open display of raw hunger, but one hand stayed between Eren's legs. After a moment of kissing, the fingers tried again to enter, this time accomplishing the task. Eren buried his face into Rivaille's shoulder, but he gave him a few quick kisses about his neck and moved down, his fingers working their way inside him. His other hand wrapped around his shaft and, in rhythm with the first, began moving up and down. The fingers brushed a certain spot and Eren's entire body jolted. At that, a third finger went in and Eren trembled silently until all three were comfortable. Rivaille pulled back and reached for the item he'd retrieved from the nightstand again.

"What's that?" Eren sat up a little to get a look at the nondescript bottle.

"Lubricant."

He gave a tiny 'oh,' realizing what it was for and that, given the ease of the fingers, Rivaille had already used some, and he blushed deeply.

"Turn around," Rivaille commanded and Eren rolled over, propping himself up on his knees. "Okay, now you'll really have to relax or it'll hurt both of us."

Eren looked back at Rivaille, his shoulders hunched slightly forward as he lined up their hips and brought himself closer, his dick glistening with the lubricant and throbbing slightly. Somehow, Eren managed not to tense up as the tip pressed itself inside and Rivaille anchored his hands on Eren's hips. Eren bit down on his hand as Rivaille started to move, slowly and deliberately hitting Eren's prostate with each stroke, prompting a hefty exhale from Eren every time.  
  
Rivaille's motions got faster and less precise, and to compensate, his hand went to Eren's cock, stroking it in rhythm with his thrusts until both became erratic and out of sync. Eren braced himself against the bed, fireworks exploding in his head every time Rivaille hit his prostrate, and his cheeks grew hot and tingly again.

"Rivaille, I'm gonna--" he broke off as he came, every muscle in his body tightening and his breath coming out in short, strained huffs. Rivaille's hands dug into Eren's hips, still thrusting into Eren's clenched body until he froze and Eren felt a growing warmth in his body. The two collapsed into the bed and lay side-by-side, panting.

"Here," Rivaille murmured and he opened his arms. Eren scooted closer and pulled their bodies together, their chests rising and falling together, slowing down as they relaxed. A wave of lethargy swept over Eren there with Rivaille in his arms.

"Rivaille," he mumbled, going on after a responsive 'hm?' was received. "We should get dressed in case someone comes in in the morning."

Rivaille gave an agreeing 'mhm' but the two were already too far gone to resist the sleep as it overtook them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry if the chapter title got Mulan stuck in your head.
> 
> and you thought there was booze in the truck. psh.
> 
> AHAHA. AHA. HA. heh. Oh lord this took forever to write. 
> 
> But yes, here's what you've been getting the explicit warning for, yay! 
> 
> Thank you to everyone for reading! Your comments are all so sweet! I appreciate you guys so much! 
> 
> EDIT: Officially calling the whole thing FIFTEEN! chapters because I've got my ending in mind now. *rubs hands together*  
> Also, KY Jelly was invented circa 1910 (there's some conflicting information, but it definitely existed by '29) now you know.  
> Enjoy! ;)


	11. Breakfast

Eren's hand curled around what he thought to be his pillow case. He was exhausted, but not awake enough to remember why. Feeling distant from his favorite part of the pillow, he rolled over to center himself.

"Oi, you big lug. You're crushing me." The pillow pushed at his shoulder.

As if he had overslept, Eren snapped up fast enough to make himself dizzy, then rubbed his eyes to get a clear view of things. A bit of fear welled up as he realized the room he was in wasn't his, but things slowly came back to him and he scrambled backwards, getting caught in the blankets.

"Good morning." Rivaille looked him over, smirking at him as he tried to untangle himself from the blankets.

"G-good morning." Eren pulled the blanket up to his bare chest somewhat flusteredly. "You're wearing clothes." Eren felt stupid as soon as he said it.

"It's almost December. It was freezing in the middle of the night when I woke up. You're lucky I managed to get the blankets over you or you'd be an icicle right now."

"But you didn't..." Eren peeped under the blankets and confirmed his suspicions.

"You're a heavy sleeper so I got you under the blankets easily enough, but I didn't feel like going _that_ much out of my way."

"Oh." Eren shifted uncomfortably, rubbing his thighs together and gathering the blankets around himself. Unconstricted, he suddenly remembered why he hated mornings. Rivaille's eyes flashed downwards as if reading his thoughts and then resumed actually reading, picking up the book in his lap.

Not looking away from his book, he opened one arm to beckon Eren forward. Timidly, Eren crawled over, taking the blankets with him and gazing longingly at his pants in a pile on the ground. He felt his face grow hotter as he curled up next to Rivaille, delighted to find it so warm, and pushed his hips back away from him, trying to ignore himself. Rivaille reached around Eren to turn the page and Eren continued to fidget for several minutes. Finally, Rivaille let out something of a laugh and set his book down.

"Honestly. Are you really so shy? I should think not after last night."

Eren stopped squirming to blush even deeper.

"You certainly weren't shy convincing me you should stay," he continued, giving Eren a look that made him twitch enough to hit Rivaille's thigh.

"S-sorry," he stammered, sitting upright. "I should put some clothes on."

He tried to move away, but Rivaille's muscled arm locked him in place, although in a way Eren saw as strangely protective. Without warning, the other arm came around and pulled him into a tight embrace. Eren stiffened, trying to move his hips back again. Goddamn were mornings a pain. After a moment, Eren managed to relax enough to feel Rivaille's heartbeat against his body, slow and comforting. He wrapped his arms around Rivaille as well, then giggled.

"What?" Rivaille pulled back to look at him.

"It's nothing," Eren responded, but the look he was getting wouldn't let him off that easily. "Sometimes it's easy to forget you're smaller than me. Until I actually hold you, you seem like you're a skyscraper."

Rivaille gave him an empty look and squished his cheeks with one hand.

"Sometimes it's easy to forget what a brat you are. Until I actually listen to you, you seem like you could be rather swell."

Eren put on a pout, only making his squished-up lips stick out more. Rivaille grinned and his hand relaxed, guiding Eren's face to his own. The proceeding kiss was soft and warm. Eren shivered. The first hand wound its way into Eren's hair, and the second was close behind, fingertips lightly resting on his jaw while the thumb caressed his cheek. He twitched again and pulled back.

"I really need to get dressed now."

"Do you?"

Eren's mouth hung open, a reply on the tip of his tongue, but nothing came to mind. Rivaille met Eren's open mouth with his, grinning. His hand worked its way down to the small of Eren's back, keeping him from moving his hips away again. Gingerly, he cupped one of Eren's buttocks, inspiring a rather explosive response from Eren, who mashed himself into their kiss and pulled up on the wifebeater Rivaille was wearing, until he felt his skin, smooth and firm and riddled with sinewy muscle. The kiss broke only for the garment to come completely off.

The two took a moment to look at one another, already slightly out of breath.

"Sit up," Rivaille barked and Eren obeyed. "We don't have much time."

He nuzzled into Eren's neck, slowly drawing himself between his legs as he did so. When he was where he wanted to be, he slid down and set his hands on Eren's hips, his face near his hands. Eren shivered again, but furrowed his brow as he looked down.

"You have a tattoo," he stated bluntly.

Rivaille stopped what he was about to do. "Yeah, I got that after I came back from the war."

"Why wings?"

"After that hell, all I wanted was to be free. I kept looking towards the sky for my answer." He propped himself up with his elbows on either side of Eren's hips. "It was one of my comrade's ideas. We got them to match."

"Why do they overlap?"

Rivaille grabbed Eren delicately and looked up at him.

"Are you done asking stupid questions?"

Now under pressure from Rivaille's grip on him, Eren nodded quickly and silently, taking in a sharp breath as the warmth of Rivaille's mouth enveloped him. It didn't take long for him to feel the need to draw up his knees and curl his toes to keep himself under control. He felt himself hit the back of Rivaille's throat and clapped a hand over his mouth, letting out a long breath through his nose. Rivaille took up a speed that Eren couldn't quite handle, and in a matter of minutes, he was dug into the mattress completely, his body overtaken by a wave of blinding heat and numbing pleasure.

Rivaille sat up and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, which he proceeded to stare at for a moment before wiping on his pants.

Eren had collapsed against the pillows, still quivering. Rivaille took it to be a reaction to the cold, so he pulled the covers up over both of them and shaped himself around him, holding him from behind. He closed his eyes and the two stayed like that for awhile before Eren squirmed around to face him.

"Wait, let me make it even." He started to move down, but Rivaille grabbed his face again.

"Oi, brat. This isn't about being even. I did it because I wanted to. Whether or not you repay the favor is irrelevant. Don't go taking any wooden nickels. Only do things if your heart's in it."

"And if I want to?"

"Do you want to?"

Eren paused for a beat. "I don't know. Maybe."

"You're not obligated to. I'm cold enough as it is with my pants on."

Eren made a face and Rivaille finally let go of his cheeks. Eren pulled him close again, resting his chin atop his hair, clean and ungelled. Something clenched a spot in his chest and he pulled him closer.

"I don't know what it is about you, but you make me feel strange things sometimes," he murmured.

"What, oral sex?"

Eren laughed and gave him a squeeze.

"No, emotionally."

He took a deep breath.

"I guess what I'm trying to say is that I think I love you."

Silence.

He pushed Rivaille back a bit to get a look at him.

"You think you love me?" He responded after Eren's eyes bore into him. Eren blinked. "Why." It fell flat, more of a demand than a question.

"Well, I mean. You're strong--scary sometimes, but you know--"

Three sharp knocks came at the door, followed by an incoherent stream of French. The doorhandle jiggled, and when the door wouldn't give, the knocks came again. Rivaille sat up and shouted something.

"Idiot," he mumbled, stretching. "I lock the door and she thinks I'm dead." He eyed Eren for a moment. "We need to get dressed. I'll need you for that job I talked about. It's in an hour."

 

Like before, they sat at a long table. Eren was seated this time, to Rivaille's right. Except, there was no bickering, no jokes being made. This was no restaurant. It was a grand mansion, not unlike Rivaille's own. But from the atmosphere, Eren could tell it was enemy territory. Again, Rivaille sat at one end of the table, though whether it was the head or the foot was impossible to tell. The attendants present--mixed between Rivaille's Italians and the enemy--sat divided at the table, an empty chair on each side between them. The silence persued until four more filed in, two taking the remaining chairs.

Rivaille stood and bowed, rigid and robotic. It was not a gesture intended for respect. Finally, the man who had taken the seat at the opposite end of the table spoke.

"It's been a lifetime since you showed here." His English was curt and formal, clearly not his first language.

"Busy men keep busy, ya know?" He shrugged and sat back down.

"I understand why you called for this, we do have little money, but really. Years ago were we friends. Now, not so much."

Eren tried not to look lost. Nothing that was being said made sense. Instead, he set his eyes on the one thing most out of place. At the other man's right hand sat an upright, stone-faced woman, not much older than he. Her hair, thin and blonde, was pulled back into a tight bun, and she kept her eyes glued to one spot with an expression so cold it seemed bored. It was no surprise she was the only woman in the room.

Even more interesting, although the man at the end of the table seemed to be in charge, the bodyguards stood directly behind her rather than him. One was built as one would expect a bodyguard to be, tall and brawny, with a square jaw and cropped blonde hair, small eyes and a tight-lipped mouth. Yet the other seemed quite a contrast; taller still, and muscular, but nowhere near as brawny. His stance was less confident, his hair dark and long, gelled back, but perhaps not for the best. With his forehead completely exposed, one could see beads of sweat, even though the large fireplace did little to warm the room. It was hard to imagine anyone hot enough to be sweating. Eren looked these three characters over, taking note of the two men's matching suits. A kick under the table jolted him back to reality.

"Times is tough. A fella does well for hisself if he keeps his money, but he does even better when his friends pitch in too. Money sure as hell can't buy everything."

The Italians nodded in agreement, each of them seeming to have picked someone to size up while their leader came up with a reply.

"This is true. But you have money and you have friends."

"Those pikers? Sure, there's plenty to go 'round while the money's good an' everything's swell, but they run like scared lil pups when the big dogs come 'round."

"So you want protection?"

"Camaraderie." The other man looked confused before someone on his left whispered something like a translation in his ear. "Hear me out. You an' me go a long way back, an' we've had a brawl o' two but that's done, say? Times like these we gots to stick together."

"I agree. But why do you say this now, come here now? Do you have something happen?" The man crossed his arms and eased back in his chair, lines gathering on his stout little face.

"A month ago, at the dancehall in neutral territory."

Eren was surprised to hear that most of Rivaille's gang persona was gone from that sentence. He tried to watch the faces of the others carefully.

"I heard there was shooting. You were there? Such bad weather for dance."

"Not there. But my girl, Petra, she was. 'Cept it wasn't just a shootin'. Only men killed were mine, my very best. And my Petra. They sliced her to bits. Innocent as a flower and yet they cut her up like a Christmas ham. Y'know why?"

"Why?" The man nearly chuckled as he responded.

"They was pikers too! The lot of them. But things is changed. Money's goin' fast an' everybody's angry. Next time they might come for me when I'm dancin'. A fella can't be too cautious." He bounced around, surprisingly animated as a crime boss.

"Okay," the man's voice was a low grumble, "say we help you. How? What do we get?"

"It's cake. You keep an eye out an' if you sees or hears somethin' about me that ain't quite right, you take a look. I need eyes, not guns. Ain't solvin' no problems like that. The more eyes, the better protection."

"Yes, yes. And for us?"

"We do the same. Your friends don't like me, an' my friends don't like you. If we can't stop 'em, we can warn you."

The other man grunted and servants began setting food down in front of everyone. Eren, rather hungry, was glad for it. The tension eased a bit. It was a few minutes before anyone spoke again. Eren was careful to make sure that Rivaille cleared him to eat, still not quite able to read the situation.

"Well, my friend, you have my help. Let the time of bad feelings end."

The meal finished in silence.

***

Rivaille sat rigid and silent in the car. They were pulling out of the driveway before Eren even noticed. He nudged him.

"Boss." With the driver and other bodyguards in the car, he wasn't sure how to address him. "What's got you in a lather?"

"They did it."

Eren blinked.

"Did what?"

"Goddamned Russians," Rivaille spat, clenching his fists. It became clear that the talks of peace were simply ploys.

"Rivaille," Eren shook him, seeing a terrifyingly familiar look on his face. "What did they do."

"Petra. They killed Petra. It was them."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> INTERRUPTING HANJI IS INTERRUPTING.
> 
> Ugh this is super late so sorryyy.  
> I got caught up in a few other things....like that little snippet I did. Like Dogs, if you haven't read it. But be warned that it is literally nothing but smut. And I'll let the archive warnings also on it do the rest because wow.  
> Anywho, have a tiny bit of smut for your troubles and the plot thickens dun dun dun. 
> 
> i'm going to go sleep for a thousand years bye. 
> 
> EDIT: I do not in anyway mean to imply any sort of racism. I'm not, I promise. 1929, however, absolutely was...
> 
> Kudos and comments always appreciated. ^^  
> Love you all  
> ~Cass~


	12. Levi

"How do you know?"

Eren's own words echoed in his ears. In the car, not but a day ago, when he had seen the look on his boss' face, he should've known.

"The way they looked at each other when I gave her a name. People aren't people without names. You can kill something easily when it's not a person. Give it a name and it gets harder."

That was the reply. And there they stood. The man before them was nameless. Already he was blindfolded and one side of his mouth was swollen from a busted lip. Other than that, his form was insignificant. Eren didn't remember him from the meeting at all, but he knew he was connected somehow. For some terrifying reason, the man grinned through his busted lip even as he was manhandled. Eren didn't have to ask what would come next of Rivaille pacing around the room while his lackeys tied the man's hands and feet to a chair. His fingers rubbed the handle of a familiar briefcase as he paced. When the man was tied, he dismissed everyone but Eren. As he set the briefcase on a table, Eren looked away, thinking back to the news he had gotten upon his arrival home the previous night.

  
"Eren, did you hear? They're going to start pulling the rookies back into the police force!" Mikasa had been ecstatic.

"That's swell! When do we go back?"

In fact, her enthusiasm had been rather contagious. Even Armin seemed more spirited than usual. Eren had been counting the seconds left before he would be able to pay for the operation. Just a few more days, that was all he needed.

"Next week! Isn't it grand? Armin will still be recovering, but we can all go back after that!" She'd spun him around in formless dance.

"President musta figured government jobs would jumpstart the economy." Armin had beamed from his spot on the couch.

Their celebration had been grand. With his work done early and his night watch relieved, Eren had the whole day ahead of him, and the three had invited over as many of the rookie officers as they could cram in their apartment. Everyone had been so excited, they went as far as throwing in donations for Armin's surgery. Two days. They could have the money by then.

So Eren was subject to being at Rivaille's side as much as possible. He could make the money come faster, not that he had a problem being with him. Most of the time. Being there, though, in that cold, dimly-lit room somewhere under the mansion felt different in a way Eren didn't like. Looking at him, he knew Rivaille was a creature capable of deep compassion, one who loves so much that death makes him physically ill. Yet there was no trace of that anywhere as he picked up the first knife from his collection, a pretty little thing with a thin blade, the emphasis on the point rather than the body. He strode over to the chair and pulled off the man's blindfold. The grinning captive gave Rivaille a sideways look as if to see something beneath Rivaille's cold and revolted expression.

"A'right, fucker." The hatred in Rivaille's voice struck Eren to his core. "You're gonna tell me exactly who it was at the dance hall that night."

The man spat. "I don't know what you're talkin' about," he scoffed. His accent was distinctly Russian.

"Don't ya?" Rivaille took a step forward, pressing the tip of the blade to the man's cheek, just under his eye. 

Eren's heart began to race. He understood the hate motivating finding the culprit behind the murder of his men and a girl close enough to be his sister. He only had to think back to the loss of his mother to feel a familiar sting, and he couldn't fathom losing Mikasa or Armin in such a violent way. But there was something cold-blooded about the way Rivaille bore his knife, something Eren couldn't really understand. He wondered if his current age would've made a difference in the way he reacted to his mother's death, if he would've wound up killing drunks rather than arresting them. Still, holding a knife to a man's face while he was completely defenseless seemed out of the question.

"I swear." He didn't even blink.

"You wanna reconsida that?"

The tip of the blade pressed deeper until it drew blood. The man sneered but didn't bother to reply. Rivaille dragged the blade down his face with a disdainful, frustrated swipe. The flesh parted with ease wherever the blade touched it and a steady trickle of blood started down the man's cheek. Eren clenched his teeth, trying not to look away as the blood dripped onto the man's shirt. The nameless man continued to grin, although somewhat less due to the gash in his cheek inhibiting his smile. Nevertheless, the gleam in his eyes remained and his curious way of looking at Rivaille persisted. His smile was a mess of black and blue and red in the pale light, his busted lip sticking to the bottom of one of his eyeteeth. Eren told himself over and over of the man's crimes to keep his sympathy at bay. 

"Let's try this again." He placed the tip of the blade on the back of the man's hand and pressed it down enough for it to sink in just a little. The man gripped the armrest but showed no other signs of discomfort.

"I said, who was at the dance hall when the shooting happened?" He applied more pressure to the hilt.

"Like hell I'm gonna tell you."

Rivaille sneered and slammed his hand down on the knife so it stuck into the armrest of the chair. The man let out an sharp breath and took to shallow breathing, but refused to let a punctured hand get to him. Rivaille strode over to his briefcase for another knife, this one bigger and serrated. Still the smile did not fade from the man's face as he continued staring at his captor. It occurred to Eren, from the way he smiled and stared, that he had something to say to Rivaille that had nothing to do with the events that happened at the dance hall, but he was refusing to speak more than the bare minimum. He wondered if this was captive procedure in the gang world. 

"Let me rephrase the question since you seem too stupid to get it. Which are you more fond of: your pride or your fingers?"

As he approached, Eren decided he'd had enough and turned away, his hand clasped over his mouth. He tried not to vomit. Once again given time to reply, silence turned to screams. Eren imagined that the smile had finally broken. Something hit the floor with a soft thud.

"You really oughtta answer me. It'll only get worse if ya don't."

A clatter came as the second knife hit the floor and Rivaille went back for another.

"P-please." Eren's voice was so desperate that for a moment Rivaille thought the man had finally gotten over his pride.

"Eren." Some of the tenderness returned to his voice, but it was distant and artificial.

"Can I leave?" Eren wouldn't look at him. He felt better with his back towards him, unable to bear the thought of loving a monster. Revenge was one thing, getting information, if by a bit of pain, was also tolerable. But mutilation churned Eren's stomach with unshakeable repugnance. And in all his disgust for his actions, Eren knew he still loved him. For a moment, he wondered why.

"Stay. Watch. Don't forget you're getting paid."

There it was. The binding element. A stone in his stomach. For all his own uneasiness, he knew it was nothing compared to what Armin felt, to what it would feel like if he lost him, if he had to watch Mikasa cry because they didn't have enough money to do anything about something a doctor could easily fix. Eren tried to resolidify himself. This was, after all, only a clash of their worlds. To Rivaille, torture and mutilation were things he saw every day. Even the innocents around him went through it, just for being associated with him. As far as Rivaille's world was, this was merely an eye for an eye--no, not even that. A pawn for a queen. In the criminal world, Eren realized, pawns and nobodys wouldn't even be noticed by the kings at the top. And Rivaille was a king. 

"I mean it, Eren, I want you to watch."

Eren turned slowly with his fists clenched under his chin in an attempt to maintain his composure. With a cold realization, he saw his suspicions had been correct. On the floor, in a pool of blood was the man's pinky. For all his suffering, the man spat again. His grin returned.

"You hire a child to watch me die? You insult me."

Rivaille was still deciding which knife he wanted to use next, but at that he snagged one of the ones designed for throwing and nailed the man in the eye opposite his torn cheek.

"Insolent shit," Rivaille spat. He made his selection, the knife with a triangular blade.

The other man was less insolence and more screaming at the loss of his eye, but with his good eye he could still see what would come of the triangular blade. Fear flashed in his eye for a split second, but the gleam persisted. 

"I'm runnin' outta things to cut. So you better make it snappy."

"I'll...never tell you." The man was struggling for breath now, eyeing the blade carefully. He winced and the one shallowly lodged in his eye fell into his lap.

Eren shuddered and his own eyes watered. The man was a bloody mess, just like how the police had described Eren's mother when they thought they were out of earshot. He closed his eyes as they started to water, trying not to imagine what was happening as the screams continued. He wanted to curl into a ball on the floor and clamp his eyes and ears shut until everything was over. How such a man could smile in the morning like a sumbeam through a window and then turn around and torture and maim like frostbite, Eren couldn't fathom. His head spun until he couldn't take it.

"Rivaille!"

Knife down, gloves off, Rivaille abandoned his subject and made his way over to Eren, rather calm. Very lightly, he tried to cup Eren's cheek, but the contact made him jerk away. An electric chill shot through Eren's body at the brief contact. A rough hand gripped his wrist. For once, the voice that spoke was not the angry growl of a gangster, but the sophisticated purr Eren was familiar with.

"I know it's unpleasant. But this is the real world. You never saw, her, did you? This is nothing compared to what they did to her. Watch, because this is the only effective way to deal with enemies. If you lock them up they only have time to get angrier."

Eren kept his eyes clenched shut, but he allowed Rivaille to place his hands on his shoulders. He shook his head vigorously.

"Please, just stop. I can't take it."

"Eren."

Neither of them noticed the man quietly mouthing something to himself, over and over, whispering around his bloody lip and grinning ever so slightly.

"I don't wanna watch, please just let me go." He started pulling away, and Rivaille let him, watched him ascend the stairs, but quietly followed after. He caught him in the hall. The white cleanliness of it was almost blinding compared to the dark, cramped space they'd been in moments before. Eren wanted to relax in the open space, but he was vaguely aware of Rivaille's hand on his wrist again, more delicately than before. The lackeys from earlier were nowhere to be found.

"Eren." When he had Eren's attention he continued. "Do you hate me?"

Eren was taken aback, both by the question and his own reaction. He felt hurt that Rivaille had asked, had doubted his feelings for him. Again he wondered why.

"N-no. I don't hate you. But you're scaring me, I mean it!" He spun away and hugged his arms to his chest. For a moment, the two just stood there with a mass of empty space and silence between them.

Rivaille reached out, timidly at first, but when Eren didn't flinch like he expected to, he wrapped his arms around him from behind, pressing his face into Eren's shoulder. Eren wanted desperately for the bad taste in his mouth to go away, but the hands holding him were the hands of a killer, if not before, then certainly in the making. There, he came to the full realization of exactly what it meant for the man he loved to be a criminal, and above that, a crime boss.  
  
It was more than just hiring men to steal trucks of lobster. It was a reason behind why he needed to be guarded day and night. Men like him, who killed other men and played with lives like chess pieces, were almost guaranteeably hated by anyone not on their payroll. That in itself was difficult enough to accept. But then, moments ago he had been carving answers out of a human being as if it meant nothing. Eren stepped out of his hold to face him.

"Why does it have to be you?" He tried to ignore the hot, angry tears on his own face. His own question surprised him for a second, but then came to make sense. He was, after all, trying to accept their differences as far as social class went, but he still didn't want to think of the first non-familial love he'd ever known as some sort of executioner.

"If you want something done right, you have to do it yourself. I would be a coward to hand the knife to someone else. Please understand that." For once, Rivaille wouldn't look him in the eye.

"It hurts." Eren said quietly. His hand had gone to his chest.

"So you do hate me."

"I don't wanna see you like this. It's not who you are." He shook his head again.

Rivaille took his hand.

"It's a part of me. You'll never have to worry about it because its existence is so finite, but it's still there. If you think I don't hate it too, you're wrong. I never wanted any of this, but I got sucked into it anyway because my mother was dirt-poor and we needed money. You're hurting, but it hurts me tenfold. I can't even believe you, Eren. You're this little creature of the light, and here you are with a monster like me."

He said it. The word that had been bubbling up at the back of Eren's mind.

Monster.

"God, I sound as stupid as you usually do. I'm trying to tell you..." he sighed and furrowed his brow. "I'm trying to tell you that I love you."

Eren didn't respond at first. It wasn't what he'd hoped it would be. He clenched his eyes against the stream of tears.

"I couldn't do this at first. I didn't want to risk losing you like I lost Petra. I wanted to tell you when you told me but I couldn't."

"I hate that you make me feel this way." Eren regretted it as soon as he said it. He knew he'd interrupted Rivaille, but the continuation never came. Only silence answered him, seeming amplified in the white, empty hallway.

"You...hate it?" He responded after some time.

"I'm so confused right now. I want to love you but you're scaring me. I can't help it! I love you and I'm afraid of you and I just want all of this to go away. You said it. Monster. That's what it feels like."

Rivaille closed his eyes and slumped down against a wall. Eren felt obliged to sit next to him. He saw him mouth the word 'monster,' his chin craned up toward the ceiling.

"You said the police force was hiring you back soon?"

Eren willed himself to give in to his obligation and sat down. He nodded.

"So you'll have you're old job back. Do something for me."

"What is it?" Eren was surprised by how weak his own voice was.

"If you really think I'm a monster, leave." His head dropped. "I told you to leave once and you didn't listen, but I mean it this time. I'll give you the money for the surgery and anything else you'd need until you can get your other job back, so don't stay for the money. But I need you to be honest. If you think I'm a monster and you stay, we'll both end up hurt."

Eren stared at him, dumbfounded. At once he was overwhelmed with thoughts. He could get everything he was working for, by simply walking away. And yet, his stomach churned at the thought.

"I can't leave you." The tears returned as Rivaille lifted his head from its own shadow to look at him. "I can't live without you."

Rivaille grabbed him and pulled him into a hug so tight he couldn't breathe. Relief. He was relieved that Eren wasn't leaving.

"We don't have to go back down there. I'll get the information another way." He broke the hug and stood up to yell something in Italian. He named the men and sent them down the stairs and they returned carrying the chair with the man in it after a few minutes. His wounds had been bandaged. He was still whispering the same incantation under his breath, now more audible. "Eave. Eye." Something along those lines, just a thin whisper not quite distinguishable. As he saw with his remaining eye Eren behind Rivaille, clutching his shoulder, he began to cackle uncontrollably.

"Hahaha, I knew it! I knew it was you as soon as I saw you. Rivaille. Big Levi. It's been a long time old friend. Since it's you, I'll tell you, although she'll be impossible to get to. Little lady Leonhardt. Sweet Annie, the boss' dóchenka." He stopped speaking to laugh again, wildly. "Big Levi! And they said the Blackcats were gone!" He was still laughing as Rivaille ordered him to be taken away.

"Y-you." Eren's voice came from behind him, tiny and shaking.

"Eren?" He tried to place a hand on his shoulder. "What's wro--" Eren slapped the hand away.

"You're Big Levi?" He had started to back away.

Rivaille blinked and cocked his head.

"You mean you didn't know?"

"You're..."

"My name is Rivaille. Let an Italian say it and you get Levi. Let them joke about it and all of a sudden I'm six feet tall."

"You..."

Rivaille seemed to be missing the look of betrayal on Eren's face, or at least, he had chosen so ignore it. He managed to recognize some of it, but it was the wrong part.

"I'm sorry, I should've told you earlier."

"You killed my mother!" Eren's anger finally burst into a massive scream.

"What?"

"She's dead. She's dead! The alcohol you sold killed her! That day, when the drunkard ran her down, you were the one at fault, with your illegal alcohol!"

Rivaille's mouth hung open for a moment.

"Eren, you can't--"

"You _are_ a monster! I'm getting out of here!"

Eren started for the way out, and Rivaille ran after him.

"Wait, please!"

"Fuck you!"

Rivaille froze and listened to the sound of Eren's footsteps as he ran away.

"Eren." His voice came out as something inhuman, loud and ultimately commanding. For all his rage, Eren stopped dead in his tracks. When he whirled around, he couldn't recognize the expression on Rivaille's face as belonging to either the gentleman or the gangster. 

"Where do you think you're going?" The man speaking was a stranger.

"You're a monster. I'm leaving." Eren tried to say this with conviction, wondering just how effective it was under the pressure of the heartless gaze Eren caught out of the corner of his eye. He was poised to leave again, trying not to look at the stranger in Rivaille's skin. 

"You still need to pay for your friend's surgery. How will you do that without a job?"

Eren's shoulders fell and he looked him full in the face. He took a moment to let it dawn on him. It wasn't just his imagination. Nothing was right about the man standing before him, not his voice, not his expression, not the way he held his head--nothing. All of it was so foreign to Eren. Dread filled him. This man would not abide by the promises made by another. A split second. That was all it had taken to free the entirety of the monster that had been hiding under Rivaille's facade. Levi.

"You said--"

"Monsters don't make promises like that."

Eren clapped a hand over his mouth and backed up. He shook his head and darted for the door. No one tried to stop him.

"Be back at ten for your shift."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...  
>  This may just end sooner than I thought.
> 
> I slammed this out immediately after finishing chapter eleven. I don't have anything to say for myself. 
> 
> Latex gloves were invented in 1890, yay.  
> Dóchenka is a Russian term of endearment referring to a daughter.  
> Throwing knives often have a short, spade-shaped blade, so they typically aren't capable of going very deep.  
> Butyeah, this is the reason I put the graphic violence warning so read at your own risk. 
> 
> You guys are all so sweet with your comments. I can't ;.;  
> Love you all!  
> ~Cass


	13. The Rains Return

A massive headache gripped Eren as he trudged about his smoggy city, head-down. The pain was almost blinding, not that it mattered. He didn't know where he was anyway. He stopped against a telephone pole, his forehead hitting the back of his wrist as he gripped it for support. Everything in his being wanted to lie down on the ground in surrender. He couldn't go back. But he couldn't go home either. More than facing his mother's killer, he couldn't face being Armin's. No, going home wasn't an option.

He caught sight of a payphone booth and trudged over to it, fishing coins out of his pocket. He spun the dial idly and held it somewhat away from himself, listening to the distant ringing as the call went through. Mikasa answered slower than he expected.

"Hello?" Her voice was small.

"Mikasa, it's me. I won't be home for awhile."

"Eren?"

A moment of silence followed. Eren wasn't sure what to say; Mikasa didn't sound like her normal self.

"Did something happen?" They seemed to say this simultaneously. Mikasa managed to reply first.

"Armin's not doing so well. He's been running a fever all morning and the medicine ain't helping. I'm worried about him."

Eren's heart sank. He gritted his teeth and sneered, hating himself, the world, the Depression--everything he could think of. Above all, he hated Levi.

"Are you alright, Eren?" Mikasa's concern grew with the silence from Eren's end of the line.

"Yeah. Just some work things. I'll come back in two days when I have the money." He paused and added, "I'm sorry." And couldn't bring himself to say more so when the money ran out on him, he didn't bother putting in another coin before the call ended. He hung the phone back on its hook and turned out of the booth quickly and completely without regard for where he was going, colliding with someone as he did so.

"Oh, sorry," He mumbled, extending a hand to the woman he'd knocked over. "Didn't see you--" Recognition hit and he let go of the hand with a gasp. "The hell're you doing here?"

Hanji got up on her own and grinned.

"Payphone." She waggled a few coins between her fingers and pointed at the booth. "I need to call."

Eren sneered and turned on his heel to walk away, but Hanji grabbed him by the elbow.

"Let go of me. I don't want anything to do with any of you." She knew. Eren could tell by the way she was looking at him, she knew what had happened just hours before. More than that, she had known all along, though she couldn't be expected to know of Eren's mother. She gave him an angry little pout of an expression.

"You wait. I need to call, then we will talk."

Eren tried to yank his arm away but found her grip rather unshakable. He glared at her as she dialed the number and inserted the coins one-handedly. Her conversation was rapid French, an incoherent stream of her babbling lasting only a minute or so. She hung up the phone and marched Eren toward a nearby restaurant.

When she managed to get him to sit with her in a booth, Eren's stubbon silence continued, his glare directed at the coffee she'd ordered him.

"I understand why you are angry with Rivaille."

Eren clenched a fist under the table. "Don't call him that."

"Child. He is the same by both names. Besides, I can barely say L-l-l," she stammered out the 'l' and pursed her lips. "The other name is hard. French is better."

Eren scoffed and continued glaring at the table.

She groaned. "Oh, you two are children! Both of you! He thinks you lie to him when you say you do not hate him, you think he lie to you about the business and both of you think I don't know you have the sex." She waved her hands about angrily, knocking her glasses out of place in the process. She corrected their position with a finger as Eren shot backwards away from her.

"What? We never--"

"Hush. I know. I always know. Everything! It's my job!" She giggled and sipped her coffee.

"I don't need this." Eren stood to leave.

"Sit!" She barked, and he sank back into his seat. When he met her gaze with a cold glare, she smiled pleasantly and sipped at her coffee again. "Talk."

"The hell about?"

"Everything. Nothing. It does not matter."

Eren sat silently for a moment, the anger subsiding. He stirred a bit of milk into his coffee and gave it a taste, Hanji watching him curiously the entire time.

"I'm not going back," he said quietly after some time.

"And then how are you getting the money for your friend?"

Eren looked up and met her eyes again. "How did you--"

"I tell you before, I know everything."

Eren brought his hands to his face and massaged his pounding forehead.

"I don't know, I don't know, I don't know," he droned on repetitively, trying to quiet the feeling in his head. "I just wish none of this were happening right now."

"You have to go back." Hanji said decisively.

"Like hell. It's not that simple and you know it. If it weren't for that shit operation he's been running under the nose of the law for years, my mother would be alive right now. What the hell is he to me? He proved who he was, cutting up innocent men!" Eren stood to leave in a huff.

Hanji hit him in the face with a projectile biscuit and glared at him until he sat down again.

"Hush child. You know nothing. Rivaille is my family and I know him for years. You think he does not feel, is not human, you are wrong. Get this in your ravioli-head: he did not kill your mother! Did you even listen to what he try to say to you? No! You run away like a child."

"Doesn't matter. It's sickening. I know what he's like now. I can't forgive that. I am an officer of the law and he's a criminal!"

"Idiot! Why you are stubborn now I do not know. But." Her hands came together at the fingertips. "If you would just listen for one second!"

Eren pouted and let out an angry sigh. "First you tell me to talk, then you want me to listen. Is that why he sent you? To try and make me listen to his bullshit?"

Hanji picked up the biscuit and threw it again.

"No one sent me here. I saw you leave, so I go to Rivaille and he tells me what happened, then I find you. But you miss the point! Rivaille is not bad. He is upset. You are upset. He's upset because he does not know why you are upset! Tell me, Eren, do you hate him?"

"He's a monster." Eren looked away.

"But do you hate him?"

"I said--"  
  
"But do you hate him? My mother was a monster. She try to make me do so many things. She wanted me married, with children! But I do not hate her, even if she want to control me."

"That's a shit comparison and you know it."

"You do not hate all monsters."

The corner of Eren's mouth twitched. He felt his heartrate rising, adding to his headache, something of a ghost of the horrid temper he'd had as a kid, but he pushed it down, trying to finally calm down. Though, given his situation, total relaxation was out of the question.

"I've had enough of this. I'm leaving."

Seeing his change in attitude and interpreting it as exhaustion, Hanji didn't try to stop him. Instead, she called after him as he headed for the door.

"You don't hate him! You know you have to go back!"

Eren stopped at the door and turned back to her, feeling a strange ache in his chest.

"I know. That's why I have to leave here now." His head was still pounding.

  
  
By the time Eren approached the gates again, a light drizzle had begun. The clouds above shifted silently, grey and sullen, brooding. Where before Eren had come to recognize and greet the guards stationed at the front gates, he kept his eyes down as he entered. Every fiber of his being wanted to turn around and leave.

"Capo is upstairs." Someone said this as Eren entered the house. He merely nodded without looking at them.

From the bottom of the stairs, Eren could hear a record playing, some soft, slow strings music, with a bit of trumpet kicking it along. He pushed open the door to Levi's room to see him seated on the bed, one foot tapping along to the slow beat. He wasn't looking at Eren, but rather at the record, the look on his face rather peaceful. For some reason, this made Eren feel unnerved. Quietly, he took his seat in the chair by the door.

"I don't plan to apologize." He continued staring at the record.

Eren stiffened but didn't acknowledge that Levi had said anything. But to him, it sure seemed like he was picking a fight. Levi glanced at him after receiving only silence, his eyes darting over Eren's stoic face.

"Not with words, anyhow. I'm sure you'll find my apology satisfactory."

Neither of them moved from where they were. Eren felt himself sneer and he crossed his legs. If that was what he had in mind, it certainly wouldn't make for any sort of apology. He felt like putting a lock on his belt. Levi's eyes locked onto Eren's knees and he sighed.

"It's not like that. That's no way to apologize. But I don't suppose you'll listen to any explanation."

It could've been a question, yet sat like an accusation. Eren kept his stony expression.

"You could try saying something."

"Who the hell are you?" Eren felt his facade break as he snapped back instantly. He found himself staring into a confused and familiar face, not at all the monster that had sent him running from the mansion.

"You know full well who I am." The response came after a moment, with an air of forced control. "Completely, now."

"Really? Because you sure as hell don't look like the monster you were a few hours ago. Did you send him crawling back into that pit where you keep your humanity?"

Levi looked taken aback. For a split second, it looked as if he were about to get furious. Eren's eyes were glued to his face, watching the small mouth twich into a snarling frown for a microsecond, only for him to tuck the bottom lip under his teeth it a forceful bite as he turned away.

"Eren, I know you're upset, but you really..." His voice quavered with something between fury and anguish.

"Get this clear, see? I'm only here for the money," Eren muttered, before he too turned away.

A moment passed before anything happened. The air between them felt like a minefield; neither man moved.

"You'll never understand. I didn't want this. I didn't want any of this."

Eren's silence persisted.

"If you think even for a second that I don't know how you feel, you're damned wrong. My family has been in the counterfeit business since the beginning of the Prohibition. I had barely been back from the war a year before watching my mother drink herself into a stupor because she was afraid with all the death that put me at the top, I'd be next. The doctors said it was liver failure by the time I could convince her to seek help. All the money and power in the world and I couldn't save her."

Eren tucked his chin to the shoulder opposite where Levi was sitting. He didn't care for sob stories to begin with, and getting one from someone he was angry with certainly wasn't going to make the situation any better. The record playing softly to a mood very unlike that in the room stopped abruptly.

"We cannot help who we are. I've lost the only man I've ever called my father, two mothers, an older brother, countless good friends, and now the younger sister I swore to protect. I would have rather never even met them than to lose them like that. There is no way in hell you hate who I am in this mafia more than I do. Words cannot express." His voice shook, and then steadied.

"And you want to get up and leave. I don't know why I trusted you. I told you to leave so many times but you wouldn't listen to me. Once the surgery is paid for, I know you'll be gone. Knowing this hurts. It hurts so much I feel like it would hurt less if you just died like everyone else. At least then I would know you weren't choosing to leave. So if you hate me, hate me. Leave. But don't hate me for things I cannot control. I already do enough of that."

Eren's fist had clenched into a ball on his knee. His eyes watered with anger and confliction. Undeniably, he was still furious at everything. In the end, he felt Levi's speech overdone, but he couldn't help the pain seeping into his chest. He mashed his fists into his eyes trying to stop the angry tears as they came. The silence between them was thick and heavy. Then, it was pierced by distant and unnerving successive patters, like intense rain, but without its rhythm. Screams followed.

"No. God no. Not my fucking house. The bastards! They wouldn't fucking dare!"

Things seemed to happen all at once. Both Eren and Levi rose from their seats, the sounds grew louder and closer, but the screams became more infrequent and the abnormal bursts of rain answered one another, sometimes a stream, and sometimes several loud shots. Eren went to bar the door, but Levi threw him aside, pulling a long-nosed gun out from the inside of his jacket. Two men ran up shouting in Italian as Eren, furiously wiping his face, followed behind Levi. Someone placed a pistol in his hand. In front of him, Levi had been given a tommy gun for each of his. They flew through the house to the yard.

Here and there, a man would lay bleeding or dead, some faces Eren recognized, and some foreign to him. He looked away in disgust. Already, two cars had taken off, screeching into the rain, and a third was behind them. He and Levi ducked into a fourth. The dark clouds washed the streets with water and blood alike. Eren clung to the seat as the car took off as forcefully as the others.

"I need you to do this last thing for me, as my bodyguard." Levi was clearly vehement, but was forcing control.

Eren gripped the gun in his hand uncomfortably and listened keenly.

"I didn't know how to apologize. I arranged for Hanji to set up all of the preparations for the surgery. I paid everything. He should be in the operating room as we speak. Hell, he could be done by now." He gave a moment for Eren to react.

Eren was dumbfounded, but at a loss for words. His eyes watered again, but he wasn't about to cry in the middle of an armed car chase. He clasped a hand over his mouth and looked down.

"Just stay by my side this one last time and maybe I can prove to both of us that I'm not too far gone to be saved. At the very least, I can say I tried."

Eren clenched his jaw and the hand over his mouth. When he had himself under control again, he met Levi's eye.

"I will." And then, a bit stiffly he added. "Thank you. For everything."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SHEESH. This took longer than I thought it would. BUT I REALLY LOVE THIS CHAPTER.   
> Things are wrapping up nicely.  
> Outdoor payphones were popularized around 1905, and little history tidbit for chronology's sake (since it's almost 1930), Prohibition began in 1920 with the passage of the 18th amendment, so Levi came into power around 1919, right after the war ended in 1918, then Eren's mother died in 1920.
> 
> Other than that, I LOVE THIS CHAPTER AND I LOVE ALL OF YOU. TELL A FRIEND. LEAVE A COMMENT. I NEED MORE OF YOU TO LOVE. You're all such cutiepies. aoihkskjalksd it's 4 in the morning.  
> THANK YOU FOR READING. LOVE YOU ALL.  
> ~Cass <3


	14. All From Above

The car screeched to a halt following the preceeding three. Boston's streets were eerily quiet in the dead of winter. Around them, the temperature had dropped, the fluke heat of earlier gone, and the rain fell as sleet.

"This is my warehouse," Levi hissed, watching the dark shapes as they darted around in the night. "They've been watching my operations for months."

Eren looked at him quizically for a moment and felt a familiar pang in his chest. Around them the other men filed out into the cold. The night was like a concert hall without the sound of gunfire; every tiny sound its own symphony. Levi's expression mirrored the one Eren had seen that night at the dance hall. The two of them remained in the car for a moment. In that span on time, Levi seemed to be both entities at once: the wretched crime boss, and the tender gentleman.

Eren realized with a start that in reality, he was both, always. He was one man, not a two-headed monster. The two sides were one person, and did not think or act separately. Nothing gentle could be done without the consent of the criminal any more than something violent could be done without the consent of the gentleman. What he chose to show other people was simply what he needed to show, not a change between two parts of himself.

"Rivaille." Eren took a moment's hesitation to reconsider the name he used. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have acted like such a brat." He could feel himself cracking under the quizzical gaze he was receiving. "I just..."

"You don't need to apologize to me. I understand. I know how it feels, in a way." He glanced slowly out the window, into the sleet as it fell in sheets. "Let's just take care of this, and then we can forget anything ever happened."

He moved to open the door, and Eren vaulted himself forward, leaving his gun behind on the seat. He caught Levi's hand before he could allow the cold into their little isolated world, guiding it to his own cheek. Their eyes met and they gave one another somber smiles before kissing, slow and deep. Even without the night's wind, their breath made little clouds around them. Gunshots sounded and they broke apart.

"We need to go."

Eren was sure to grab the gun.

They made their way inside, past stacks of wooden crates that turned to iceburgs in the frozen rain. The door was already open, and the gunfire across the warehouse, but Levi pulled Eren in behind him quickly, so that they were sheltered behind a metal shelf. Levi gripped his tommy gun like a vise in one hand, and Eren's hand in the other, his second gun strapped across his back. Eren heard him curse himself for not bringing more ammunition, and he wondered if his own measley pistol would do anything for either of them.

It was pitch black. Neither gang could see a thing.

More shots fired, and men yelled out in a slew of languages. Someone ran up to where they were hiding, receiving Levi's gun in his face until he proved himself with a hissed stream of Italian. He disappeared after that moment, the shelf too small to hide all three of them.

"We outnumber them, and he thinks we've gotten most of them by now," Levi whispered, his back to the shelf. Shots sounded close to them, and Eren thought one hit the shelving. Levi swung around the side and let of a stream of bullets. Fire was exchanged in this way until Levi's gun ran out, at which he tossed it into the open. A pistol came out of his jacket, and he fired three shots into where he'd thrown his gun. A man cried out in agony.

"Got him." Levi pulled the second gun off his back. Eren remained where he was, crouched low on the ground with his hands over his ears.

"It's so dark." He mewled. "How do you even see anything?"

"Windows." Levi pointed the barrel of his gun near the ceiling. They lined the uppermost parts of the wall, letting in scant amounts of moonlight.

Eren concentrated and tried to relax. He found he was able to see when he did so, but his heart still pounded in his chest. He squeezed Levi's hand.

"Won't be too long." Levi murmured, returning the squeeze.

In the next several minutes, Levi emptied his second gun to a handful of agonized screams. Eren's joints seemed frozen in place, his palm sweating on the handle of his pistol. He couldn't deny how scared he was, but in his fear he knew he was strong. The heat in his other hand was enough to ensure his strength.

"They're running for the back door." Shots rang out again. When everything had fallen silent, Eren and Levi ran after them, pistols at the ready. Even as they ran in the empty warehouse, Eren felt uneasy, jumping at the echoes of their own footsteps as if they belonged to someone else. Shadows moved and did not move.

They emerged into the night and immediately ducked behind an iceberg of frozen crates. It was barely enough to cover both of them, so Eren crouched behind Levi. The frozen rain had stopped falling. Shots still persisted, at random intervals.

"Come out, you cowards!" Levi growled from behind the boxes. "Or we'll send your bodies back to your boss with a pretty love note."

Silence answered them for a moment. Then a shaking voice.

"If I come out, will you promise to let me live?"

"That's the deal." Levi answered without hesitation. "Slide your gun out in front of you first."

Eren peered around the boxes and watched a gun slide out onto the thin layer of ice covering the ground.

"Good kid. Who else is with you?"

"N-no one. I am alone."

"You better be. You break your promise and I break mine." Levi gave a nod and some of his men just barely able to see him stepped out into the clearing. Eren held his breath waiting for gunshots. None came. Levi rose to stand himself, and Eren followed. A sound came from his right, from the door, just the smallest crunch of a boot on the thin ice. He turned to see the man, the gun, and the shine of Levi's hair in the line of fire, from the corner of his eye and then things happened at once. Eren moved. The man fired. Eren fired. The ground rushed up to meet what the bullets had hit.

Levi glanced to his right at the man dead in the exit of the warehouse, a hole neatly in his temple, and turned his gun on the man cowering in the clearing, firing a clean shot. He fell too.

"You broke your promise," he spat. His attention was redirected to the hand gripping the right thigh of his trousers. "Ere--" His breath caught in his throat.

He sat on his knees, slightly hunched over, his gun on the icy ground next to him. The hand that wasn't grabbing Levi's trousers was tucked poisedly to his chest. Levi dropped to his knees as well.

"No. Fuck. Fuck. Tell me you're not shot." His hands were on Eren's shoulders, shaking him slightly.

Eren didn't move for a second, and then he looked up and smiled. Chills ran through Levi's body. The smile was sweet, yet apologetic. It struck him to the core.

"Eren, god damn it." Levi tried to solidify himself, his face getting hot. HIs grip only grew tighter as Eren swooned forwards. Around him, his men swarmed, shouting things and trying to get Levi to his feet. Police sirens wailed at a distance. Levi pushed them all away, ordering them to get to the cars. They disappeared, until it was just the two of them. Eren lay back across his lap. All was silent, until Levi broke through with a frustrated scream.

"Rivaille." Eren called him down from his angry yelling at the sky. "I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize! Stop apologizing to me!" The facade was broken. Tears fell onto Eren's face.

With his clean hand, he grabbed for Levi's head, pulling him down for a cold kiss. The intensity of it could've melted the entire city, yet Eren grew short of breath and had to pull away.

"I'm glad," he whispered. Levi had to lean in to even hear. "I'm glad I met you." His sentences were slow and labored. "Tell Mikasa to take care of Armin."

Every sentence seemed to take a century, and Levi moved to say something, but stopped himself.

"I love you," Eren continued, forcing a smile. "Maybe we'll meet again someday."

"No. Fuck you. Fuck all of that. You're not going to die. You can't die. I love you too and I say you can't fucking die."

"Rivaille." Eren's face pointed to the sky. "It's snowing."

So it was.

Levi gave and angry growl and scooped Eren into his arms, his feet crushing the ice beneath them. A familiar, panicked voice came from around the corner, a rush of French.

"Mon dieu," came the gasp. The two ran to the car Hanji had arrived in. It took off after the others.

  
  
"He's unconscious now, but alive." Her hands worked quickly and accurately, despite the car as it skidded through the streets. "But it's bad. Very close to the heart."

Levi said nothing, half-listening to her babbling. He knew she wouldn't have been far behind, especially with the cars taking off as quickly as they had. Regret welled in his chest. He cursed himself for not leaving with the other men, sooner. He tried to ignore how Eren's face paled in his lap, how the ugly red had infected everything. He cradled Eren's head while Hanji continued to try to stop the bleeding, and willed the car to go faster.

Everything was numb. Somehow they'd made it into the hospital, and there was hustle and bustle all around him. Eren was torn from his arms and carted away. Levi felt he could've stood in the spot where they took him from him for decades, but Hanji ushered him to a chair. Around them, people tried to pretend they weren't staring at the bloody pair talking at one another in rapid French.

"Rivaille. Rivaille. Hey, look at me." She shook him. His eyes stared into empty space.

"I killed him. It's my fault."

She shook him harder. "He's not dead. The doctors have him. He will live, just you watch."

He only shook his head and buried his face in his hands. Hanji heard him mumble something into his palms and urged him to repeat it. He lifted his head and pushed his hands back through his hair, pulling on it as he reached the ends.

"It's snowing."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HI THINGS COME FROM ABOVE THAT IS ALL. 
> 
> okay, so about the rain in Boston in December. I forgot that stuff like that doesn't happen because I'm from the south and what the hell is snow, so bear with me. BUT THE SYMBOLLISM. LOOK FOR THE SYMBOLLISM. (gomen)
> 
> next chapter will be a long one  
> FINALEFINALEFINALEFINALEFINALEFINALE.
> 
> Thank you to everyone for reading! You're all so sweet (comments are my favorite. <3)  
> Drop some kudos or a comment, leave a little love!  
> Love you all!  
> ~Cass


	15. Snowfall

Mikasa knelt by Armin's bed, holding his pale hand with delicacy, her fingers pressing into the skin just enough to feel his pulse. He would live. She told herself this over and over again, feeling the worry that had built up over the past few weeks ebb away with every heartbeat under her fingertips. She pressed the little hand to her lips and sighed in relief. Her reverie was broken by a light knock at the door. It was already open, but the knock startled her nonetheless.

"Oh! It's you!" She stood and ran and pulled the intruder into a hug. "Thank you for everything! We're so grateful. How ever can we repay you?"

As she held the woman at arm's length, her smile faded.

"Eren..." She looked away from Mikasa.

"Is he here? I thought he was still at work. Is he outside?" She let go of Hanji to peer around outside of the room.

"I'm sorry."

Mikasa froze at the tiny mumble behind her. How she hadn't noticed it before was beyond her. As she turned, she fully saw the woman who had earlier brought her such happy news, shrunken and blood-stained. Her jaw clenched.

"What happened." She tried to make it sound like a question, but it fell flat.

Hanji simply shook her head.

  
 _-earlier-_

  
Levi sat with his face in his hands. He knew a surgery like that could take hours, and it felt like it had been days, but looking at his watch, only an hour had passed. He had since pulled himself together, and the emptying ward was comforting, but nothing could shake the feeling that everything was his fault. Hanji had sent for someone to bring him a new set of clothes, she herself having changed but for her favorite winter overcoat which she had brought with her from France, its sleeves still soaked in blood. The clothes sat beside him on a little wooden table by his chair. He could summon neither the energy nor the will to change. Part of him felt he should wear the blood as a mark of shame.

Somewhere in the back of his head he felt a nervous buzz demanding a cigarette, but that too felt wrong, so he ignored it for as long as he could. When Hanji noticed him toying with the box of cigarettes in his chest pocket, she urged him to go outside, if only to get a bit of fresh air.

Maybe he spent an hour outside. Perhaps it was longer. He smoked the entire box and proceeded to watch all of his matches burn out, some of them catching his fingertips. Nothing helped ease the waiting. Finally, he settled for crouching on the concrete outside of the hospital doors, watching the snow fall just out of reach. By the time Hanji came to get him, all of his fingers and toes were numb, and the tip of his nose tingled as well. He wanted to stay outside for longer.

"Maybe you should get some sleep," Hanji suggested.

His reply was something of a mumble he wasn't sure counted as French.

Yet he ended up falling asleep anyway.

Rather than snow, there was sunshine. The lawn was green, the flowers in full bloom, and a lively card game could be heard just outside his window. It was how he prefered his mansion, in the full swing of spring with everyone so sick of frost that they'd set up chairs and play cards just for an excuse to be outside. He could feel his elbows on the window sill, his forehead pressed against the glass. Moments like that were brief, and he could only enjoy them for a second before he was off to his next business venture. A familiar voice called him away from the window.

"Rivaille." The sloppy English pronunciation of his name. "Let's go outside today, please?"

"No, no, Eren. I've got work to do."

"You always have work to do. Can't it wait? It's so nice outside."

He turned. There he was, sitting on the bed and pouting. The drab browns and greys he wore didn't do him justice, the flattened paperboy hat unworthy of sitting on his head. The sight was as mesmerizing as the one outside of the window.

"I know, but maybe during the weekend."

"Oh I know." He hopped off the bed and padded towards him with an evil grin. "Maybe you'd like to stay inside today. I was just on the bed; it's pretty soft. And we could open the window!"

Arms around his neck.

"Eren."

And they were outside, on the green lawn waiting while someone set up a camera.

"We'll get a picture of ourselves! In our house!"

Our house. He said that over and over again, and was still saying it as they stood poised in front of the face of the house, the yard's fountain positioned behind them. Eren grabbed his hand.

"Isn't this swell?"

The camera clicked. Tires screeched. Gunshots sounded. Then Eren was in his lap again, except he was fine, clean and smiling. Levi looked down to see that it was his own chest that was bleeding, but he remained upright with Eren in his lap.

"It's snowing."

Levi watched the green lawn disappear in a blanket of white. He woke with a start.

Hanji stood over him, her hands hovering as if she were about to wake him. He wrenched himself out of his slumped-over position rather forcefully to see a doctor in a clean, white lab coat behind her, clipboard in hand. Suddenly, Levi felt immensely awake and alert.

"Is the surgery over?"

"It is." The doctor's expression was unreadable. Levi spent a moment examining the man's face, wondering if he would continue on his own.

"There were some complications." It took him a minute to speak again. "As it was, it was very close to his heart. He's lucky he didn't die instantly. And the work your wife did was excellent. He would've died on the way if not for her."

"He's my cousin." Hanji came up beside him and gave a small smile to the doctor.

"As with any surgery, we did everything we could."

Levi didn't like the way the man was speaking.

"But unfortunately, we couldn't save your friend. We're very sorry."

"I see." Levi said this in a very small voice, and he saw the doctor's lips move again, but he couldn't hear anything anymore. He stayed on his feet until the doctor had walked away, stiff like a marionette held high by taut strings. He collapsed to his knees, the strings holding him cut in the instant the doctor was gone.

Somewhere above him, Hanji's voice swam but he couldn't make out what she was saying. He just remained on his knees. No tears would come.

"È finita. C'est fini. It's over." None of the three were enough to make it sink in. He gathered his strength and made his way outside, leaving his coat behind and ignoring Hanji. When she saw she couldn't stop him, she made her way to a room she had visited earlier.

He knelt in the snow this time. The cold wasn't enough to numb the pain that had started when he hit the ground for nth time that night. He fell onto his back in the snow, imagining that the tears that had finally come, slowly but incessantly, were freezing on his face.

_It's snowing._

It was almost morning, and the sun illuminated the horizon with a pale golden halo. Somewhere to his left, on the pathway, Levi heard the snow crunch.

"Mommy, why's that man in the snow?" The child gave a cough and his mother answered him.

"It must be too warm inside, now come on dear, it's time for your appointment." The footsteps carried on, but not before the child shouted as happily as he could.

"Merry Christmas!"

Levi's frozen hand came to his face as more tears came. Christmas. His birthday. He lacked the strength to get out of the snow, so as the sobs came, he choked on them.

 

It wasn't snowing for the funeral. The snow had stopped, yet the cold persisted. He made sure everything was paid for. No expense was spared. He had flowers brought in from god-knows-where, dozens of them. He would never have the warm spring day with the green lawn and the flowers around them. As the service started, he kept his distance, unable to look at the faces of his sister and his best friend, whose recovery had been quick. Hanji told him they would all go back to work soon.

He came only for the viewing, filing in silently behind everyone else. When he reached the casket, an eon seemed to pass. He wanted to stay there forever, looking at his pale yet beautiful face. The look on his face was almost peaceful, his skin as smooth an uninterrupted as freshly fallen snow. He placed a hand on his cheek and wanted to withdraw it immediately. The chill of death felt so wrong under his fingertips.

"Goodbye, Eren," he whispered, "thank you, my love."

He swept down to kiss the cold forehead, and when he could bear the funeral no more, he disappeared into the snow as it began to fall once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINAL CHAPTER. Wow guys, it's been an amazing journey. The epilogue is immediately after this chapter, and I've posted them together, but here you are, the end!


	16. Epilogue

Erwin walzted to his office. Around him, the newbies swarmed, reporting things and handing him paperwork, only to be shooed away by those higher up. He had to admit that he prefered the quiet of the station before the rookies were brought back, but in a city like Boston, the force always needed good men, no matter the experience.

"Sir, before you go into your office," one of them was saying, practically tripping over himself trying to keep up with Erwin's wide gait.

"Not now, son, can't it wait?"

"But sir!" The gap between them was growing.

"I need to start on some of this paperwork, run along now."

"Sir!"

Erwin threw open the door to his office to see someone sitting in his chair. He stood there for a moment, dumbfounded before the little rookie caught up to him.

"This is what I was trying to tell you, sir. He came in insisting to speak to you and you only. He showed himself to your office."

"Leave us." Erwin ordered, holding up a hand and not looking back.

"But sir,"

"That's an order."

The rookie saluted and left.

Erwin padded into his room carefully, shutting the door behind himself.

"I never thought I'd be seeing you in my office. Don't suppose I've seen the likes of you since before the rise of the Blackcats."

He watched the figure carefully, his feet proudly on the desk. Erwin took a seat across from him in one of the chairs he kept for consultations. It wasn't particularly confortable, but he kept his eyes trained on the silent figure.

"You're quieter than I remember, Levi."

At his name, the figure sat up, taking his feet off the desk. He smoothed back his gelled hair and inhaled deeply.

"Salutations." His one and only word reverberated throughout the office silence like an echo.

"So you do remember how to speak." Erwin smirked. "What brings you to my office?"

Levi leaned forward, out of the shadow that had concealed him in the chair. He placed his hands on the desk and stared Erwin straight in the eyes. Neither man blinked.

"I am here to confess my crimes."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Perhaps this was of some solace. I'm considering doing an alternate ending, provided I feel a need for it, but this was my original intended ending, since I've been wanting to write a tragedy for these two for the longest time, so I must say it was very hard to stick to it with everyone hoping no one would die. Thank you all for reading!


End file.
